#silver lining of not being able to sleep bc of a cold

[nevergoinoutofstyle]

Dress, IDWLF?!?! 😅😅😅😅😅😅

🥹🥹

[ryngzmn]

Hey! this is from that post where you need something to write about lol Maybe something about Dean comforting reader about something? Maybe it's based on trauma or something that happened on the hunt that got them so shaken up?

silver springs

PAIRING: Dean Winchester x reader

SUMMARY: dean comforts you after you have another night terror.

WORD COUNT: 669.

A/N: I LOVE THIS IDEA SM, TY😭😭 also i js created the title on a whim bc i was listening to Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac on repeat the whole time while writing this (can you tell I’m not that creative lol..)

One thing Dean had recently noticed about you is that you tended to wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares.

He’d always comfort you as best as you could, but he could shake away the curiosity of what those night terrors were about.

To be frank, he always asked if you wanted to talk about it, but you’d always decline. Dean didn’t push anything, for your sake of things.

—————————————————————————

Dean was wide awake this night, and he could hear you tossing and turning in the nearby motel bed.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder and at your trembling form, preparing himself for when you eventually woke up.

A few minutes after, you shot up with a sharp gasp, a cold sweat engulfing you, and tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Dean got up almost immediately, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed near you.

“Hey, hey..” He whispered, gently placing a hand on your knee and rubbing his thumb over the inside of the joint.

You slowly looked over at him with wide, almost wild eyes.

“You’re okay, you’re safe here.” He assured quietly, giving your knee a comforting squeeze.

Once Dean saw you take a small breath, he knew you were slowly calming down. Which was a good sign, obviously.

He inhaled through his teeth as he asked the same question he asked every time you had one of these. “You wanna talk about it?”

He fully expected you to say no, to say you were fine and go back to sleep for the night. But surprisingly, you nodded your head wordlessly.

Dean shifted on the bed so he was fully sitting next to you, tugging you closer to him.

You let your head fall to his shoulder, taking a deep breath before you spoke.

“It was about a Wendigo hunt…” You said quietly, but just loud enough that you could hear yourself.

“Yeah..?” Dean nodded, looking down at you as he waited for you to continue expectantly.

You could feel his eyes on you, and you sniffled for a quick second.

“Yeah. It, uh, it ruined my hearing a bit. And it almost killed me.” You explained, shifting against Dean’s side.

Ah, so that’s how you’re hearing was messed up. Dean knew that your hearing wasn’t the best, he and Sam always had to speak in normal volumes around you.

They could never whisper or mumble anything, you wouldn’t be able to hear them and always had to ask them to repeat themselves.

The brothers had both asked why your hearing was like that, because they didn’t really think it was all that natural for someone to hear but not hear that well.

Every time, your response would be something along the lines of, “It happened during a hunt…”

But you never explained it any further. You just left it to their imaginations. Sam’s curiosity died faster than Dean’s did.

Dean’s curiosity on the matter never went away.

“A Wendigo hunt?” He murmured in question before shaking his head and repeating the question in a louder tone for you.

He heard you chuckle quietly and he felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips.

“Mhm.” You nodded, clearing your throat before continuing. “It came at me, I was able to dodge just it time for it to hit a vital area, but it still clipped my ear.”

Dean let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You eagerly sought his comfort and warmth that came with being in his presence on nights like these.

“Maybe you should get back to sleep, we have a hunt in the morning.” Dean chuckled, squeezing your shoulder.

You sighed, letting out a small yawn now that you realized how exhausted you still were.

“Yeah, I should probably do that.” You agreed, “You should go to sleep too,”

Dean tapped his chin thoughtfully, before looking back down at you.

“Okay, yeah, I think i’ll go to sleep too..”

—————————————————————————

reblogs r appreciated !

[dumbkatsu]

Hello!

I was wondering if I could request poly hualian and Shi Qingxuan x male!ghost!reader headcanons? Like the reader is super flirty and talkative but is also childish and affectionate?

Please and thank you :))

Ah of course!! This prompt sounds fun! Let me see...

Let's start right of the bat with you qingxuan being the chaotic duo and Xie lian and hua cheng are the ones with the leash () to tame you guys down.

Like when you two are drunk something will always catch on fire inevitably.

Paradise manor has been such a victim of your high jinks

Another of your favorite activities is to make your lovers blushhh :D

They are just adorable to see all fumbling for words cheeks rosy red so cuutee.

You don't want to be biased here but Hua cheng blushing and being embarrassed is by far the most adorable blessing to your eyes.

He's just so collected and calm that you make it your goal to get him to blush.

You try the best pick-up lines you got. You bring your A-game. But nothing works.

Until one day when he is getting ready to go to the gambler's den and he's wearing something different.

He usually goes for red but today he decided to wear a black robe with grey undertones and silver details.

He looked so regal and breathtaking you just had to

"Wow. You look...beautiful."

This threw him completely off his game. All he could do was look down and cover his already reddening face with his sleeve trying to salvage his last ounce of composure as he muttered a "thanks" behind his sleeve.

On another topic when the cold winter arrives it is mandatory for you all to be together under a biiiigggg blanket you and qingxuan made. all bundled up and cozy.

Yes, you and hua cheng don't really need to sleep but you indulge yourselves by just closing your eyes and relaxing in this comforting moment.

You help xie lian in the kitchen bcs god forbid qingxuan and xie lian in the kitchen alone together. it's recipe for disaster.

while you and hua cheng are basically masterchefs keeping your malewives well fed.

when you are making the dough for bao you spank the dough while looking straight at Xie lian's eyes and see him blushing uncontrollably and turning away,not being able to look at you.

Your day-to-day lives really consist of sqx and xl doing their daily activities like going to work on construction or go to the heavenly capital on occasion to deal with some businesses.

you and hua cheng on the other hand survey your own dominions. But you stay more at puqi shrine than him since you have more freedom with your territory.

Hua cheng is the one who is out the most. but it's never too long.

One of the greatest pleasures you experience is waking up after a steamy night (especially during the mount tonglu period) and just gazing at your lovers faces. Tucking a strand of qingxuan's hair behind his ear, caressing xie lians soft thighs, peppering hua cheng's face with kisses.

Sometimes you get into a contemplation daze where you just can't believe how you got to feel so much love. The world has never been kind to you, letting you experience some of the worst experiences of your past life but somehow you found your place and managed to receive an amount of love you thought you'd never deserve.

A cold hand reaching your face and wiping a tear you didn't realize you shed gently called out to you

"Darling you're staring again."

[yonymii]

2 arabesques

a/n; this one was hard to write bc I did it while having writers block but I hope it's ok!! I love alisa a lot she is lovely and I would marry her if she was real 🥰🥰😍😁😁 also I got very absorbed like, halfway through so y/ns personality is basically me. yes

wc; 3.9k

warnings; cursing,

genre; fluff, strangers/friends to lovers, romance

pairing; alisa haiba x gn!reader

listen to 2 arabesques here!

She reminded you of the old paintings of angels you’d seen in art galleries as a child. It was weird, seeing something so ethereal reincarnate as a university student. She didn’t belong here; she belonged on a pedestal, deserved to be adored. But life was unfair, you supposed, and not everyone could experience the excitement of such an elaborate life. Perhaps that was why she was studying fashion modeling in the first place (whatever that was). You’d probably never know. She had absolutely no idea who you were.

By the time you’d stopped daydreaming, your final class of the day was over and everyone had left. Only you were left in the lecture hall, sitting at the very back with your head resting ontop of your arms, the shuffling of the professor packing up his things quickly making tiny little noises at the front of the room. He left, the door swinging shut behind him, but it wasn’t locked. 

It didn’t take you long to pack up, seeing as your laptop hadn’t left your bag in the first place. You swung it over your shoulder after your coat, tucking your hands into the sleeves to protect them from the bite of the wind. It had been snowing when you arrived in the morning, and it took and hour to wake up your fingers to be able to type, let alone write anything. 

The hallways were quiet (as usual; it wasn’t as if anyone wanted to stay in school when they didn’t need to). The little shop on the ground floor had a few students in it, but they were in a hurry to leave too. The large exit doors had obviously been open all day and it was absolutely freezing. You were glad you’d put on your big coat in the morning; it was a long walk back to your apartment and you planned on going to a coffee shop before going there.

It had stopped snowing, but the ground was covered in puddles and your boots and feet got soaked in numbingly cold water as you wandered towards the place you usually studied. It was slowly getting darker as you walked and the sun was lowering itself below the tall line of skyscrapers and apartment blocks when you entered the coffee shop and joined the small queue of teenagers and tired-looking adults ordering their drinks. 

It was quiet inside but you were thankful for the warmth the heaters provided, and the low hum of voices under the music wasn’t unwelcome; you payed for your drink quickly and went to sit at your usual spot, the two-seater table in the corner. There was a small, dim light hanging above your head and it lit the space in a soft, golden glow, unlike the rest of the coffee shop that was lit by streetlamps outside. The moon was hid behind a building, only half of it visible, but you still found yourself staring at it for an unnecessary amount of time. It reminded you of her; your friend’s friend. The girl studying fashion modeling. 

To be quite honest, you didn’t see her that often, so it was a mystery as to why she plagued your mind so often. Apparently, her brother played volleyball for a highschool called Nekoma (albeit not very well), and she was half Russian. Not that it mattered to you, though. You supposed that you’d like her anyway. 

Suddenly, you found yourself snapped out of your little trance by the waiter bringing your mug to the table and setting it down a little too loudly. He walked away quickly, avoiding any sort of contact with you, but you weren’t bothered by it. You were focused on your book so the lack of conversation wasn’t disappointing in the slightest. The bell at the door rung again, and because of the small distraction of your drink arriving you raised your head to see who it was, somewhat begrudgingly, despite it being completely of your own accord.

Your eyes were met with a pair of stark green ones that seemed to go right through you; you shivered, not because they were unfriendly. Admittedly, you knew who she was, but your frank lack of energy made it hard to want to communicate with anyone, and so you pretended not to see her, looking back down at your book and swiftly burying yourself in the pages, as if you were trying to hide from her.

You knew your efforts were futile though. She was almost too nice, and it wasn’t like she knew you were already half-asleep and probably weren’t able to form a coherent sentence. At this point, you weren’t even reading. The words were going right over your head. 

You heard her footsteps before her voice, and you didn’t even need to look up to know she was smiling. “Y/n!”. Too loud. You tried not to wince to noticeably.

“Hey, Alisa,” you managed to spit a greeting out. You weren’t sure what you thought about her at this point. You were tired, and it was late, and you had so many essays due that you doubted you’d get more than an hour of sleep over the next few days. Yeah, sure, you loved her but you were so overwhelmed you didn’t think you’d be able to handle talking to one more person. Emotions were confusing (especially when you considered yourself to be in love, whatever that felt like).

“How have you been?”, her voice was like silk, and you had to wait a moment to process what she was saying. Alisa continued, “I haven’t seen you since last month! How have you been?” she looked down at your book, then at your bag that barely held all the paper assigments from your classes. She laughed (the same laugh that gave you heart palpitations. This  was the reason she wasn’t good for you) “You look busy.”

You laughed (it was sort of forced, but that isn’t the point), “Yeah. School tends to keep you busy,” you paused, adding shakily, “I’m used to it, though. Don’t worry about me!” 

The blonde girl frowned as she watched you panic, your eyes darting everywhere but her. It was hard not to worry when you watch someone you consider a friend fall apart in the back corner of a coffee shop. She tried her best to ignore it though, and as soon as you managed to look back at her she continued the conversation.

“I don’t think we have each other’s numbers yet, y/n. Do you mind exchanging? Maybe we could go out together sometime, since i have to get home and look after Lev,” she sighed, and her eyes closed momentarily, “He’s a bit of a handful. For a fifteen-year-old.”

You didn’t have the energy to feel sorry for her but you let her enter her number into your phone, and she listened attentively when you told her yours to make sure she didn’t get it wrong and end up texting a random stranger to make plans. After you watched her leave, take-out cup of coffee in hand, you lay your head on the darkening pages of your book, ear pressed to the paper. You closed your eyes for a moment and then sat up, breathing deeply as you drank the rest of your tea. You closed your book, tucking it into the bottom of your bag and standing up, patting your coat pocket to check that your phone was still in there. 

It was pitch-black when you stepped outside, and the streetlamps made you squint and cover your eyes with one hand; your apartment wasn’t too far away but it was cold and taxis were easy. You flagged one down and climbed into the back, sitting directly behind the driver (it made you feel safer anyway), and you put in your headphones. 

The drive passed quickly, and as soon as you paid for the journey and exited the car you began to walk briskly up the stairs to your place. Your keys were in the same pocket as your phone, and you pulled them out wearily, pushing the silver one into the lock and turning it till you heard the familiar click. 

The door felt extra heavy tonight, and your bag dropped to the floor just as quickly as you dropped onto your bed. The lights were too bright to turn on but the fairy lights lining the walls were fine; you opted for them as you dropped your thick coat next to your bag and shoes. Closing the window from the freezing cold and switching on the little heater, you crawled into bed and let the warmth envelop you. You fell asleep in mere seconds, ignoring the loud vibrations from your phone carry across the room. 

-

Most of the time, when you don’t want to reply to someone’s message or call them back, you just pretend to have not read it or noticed in the first place. It was weird, leaving the notification there, just to remind yourself that she texted you first. When you’d exchanged numbers the previous week, you just assumed that you’d be the first one to reach out. That’s how it had been with every other friend you’d made. You weren’t disappointed; in fact, you were grateful. You hated having to initiate conversations, however you still felt bad for not replying. 

It had been five days since Alisa first messaged you, three since the second time, and fifteen minutes since the last. The latest one read ‘I’m coming over. Be about 20 minutes!’. 

You sighed, reading it once more and then turning your brightness down. Just because you hadn’t replied to any of her texts didn’t mean you weren’t ok. The music barely reached your ears since you were buried so deep under your covers, but that was fine. You weren’t really listening to it anyways.

There was a knock at the door. You didn’t think that the person on the other side realised how thin it was, but you definitely heard them sigh and let out a string of curses after you didn’t reply. It was Alisa, but you knew that. Nobody else would want to check in on you. The doorknob rattled and you winced; too loud. It opened, a little quieter this time, and slowly, the covers were peeled off of your figure. Alisa sighed (again. How sick of you could she possibly be? You only got back in touch less that six days ago) and looked down at you with disdain. 

“You need to get up. Have you missed any classes?” you shook you head in response to her questions. You couldn’t miss classes. It’s not as if you found them particularly difficult. Just a little boring, that’s all. 

You closed your eyes, tapping your fingers against the mattress. The blinds had been opened and now the evening light was pouring into your room unfiltered. Alisa grabbed your wrist gently, pulling you up painfully slowly. You groaned, rubbing your eyes and patting her hand to let her know you can sit up on your own. 

You opened your eyes somewhat begrudgingly, squinting from the still too-bright light. Alisa was stood at your small fridge, rifling through whatever food was left in there. She pulled out a half-full bottle of milk and a packet of ham. “Do you not uhh,” she paused, “have any… other kinds of food? Or is your diet limited to milk and ham sandwiches?” 

“I usually get takeout. Or ham sandwiches. Sort of depends how lazy i’m feeling on that day.” She turned and smiled at you, nodded her head back towards the door. “We can go to mine. I have ‘good’ food there. Lev needs feeding anyways.”. You grinned, “I thought Lev was fifteen?” 

“Yeah, but he’s still incompetent. I’ll teach him to cook later, when i’m not taking care of you.”

You looked down at your lap, and then at the pair of shoes on the floor next to your bed. Sliding them on, you stood, looking at Alisa for approval. “You look fine. When was the last time you changed?”

You hesitated, thinking for a moment, “A few hours ago, when i got back from class.” You grabbed the brush on the bedside table and combed through your hair a few times, evening it out from the mess it was a minute ago. “C’mon,” Alisa opened the door, “Don’t forget your keys! I doubt you wanna get locked out, right?”

-

Alisa’s house was big. She was lucky not to have to live in student accommodation, in all honesty. When you sat down on her large sofa, you heard the voices of two adults nearing. You weren’t sure what to think at this point. You and Alisa barely knew each other, and she’d come to your apartment, dragged you out of bed, invited you into her home where her whole family was. 

“Alisa, darling? Have you brought a friend over?” 

You saw her nod out of the corner of your eye as she made your meal, humming quietly to the tune of the music. There were loud, fast footsteps in the corridor that her parents had exited and looking up, you saw a lanky grey-haired boy with the same stark green eyes as her. He was almost as tall as the ceiling, and when he entered the room he had to duck to get through the threshold. You assumed this was Lev, Alisa’s high school age brother. Volleyball boy. Whatever. He was unimportant, and you were hungry. 

“Ah! Lyovochka! Are your teammates here? Do they want food?” she didn’t look up from the kitchen counter as she spoke but Lev nodded, running back to ask his friends if they wanted food. (He never came back to give any sort of answer, though)

“So!” the sudden appearance of Alisa’s mother was unexpected. She was just as pretty as her daughter, but very obviously older. “What’s your name?”

You stuttered, panicking slightly, avoiding any possible eye contact. You looked to Alisa for help, and caught her gaze as she hurried over, sitting next to you. “This is y/n, mom. We met a while ago but i invited her over for lunch today,” she looked at you and patted your thigh, trying to calm you down slightly, “We might go out to the city later, if that’s okay with them.”

Alisa’s mother raised her eyebrows at your unwillingness to speak; maybe she thought you were being rude, but you didn’t have the capacity to worry about that right now. “Nice to meet you, y/n.” You nodded, slightly dizzy from being so overwhelmed but trying to be as polite as possible nonetheless. Alisa’s dad was stood behind the sofa, a large cup of what you assumed to be tea inbetween his hands. 

Alisa stood and ushered her parents away, towards the door. “Were you going out?” they nodded, grabbing bags and phones on the way out, “We’ll see you later, then!” Her father tried protesting, but Alisa reassured them that Lev was completely fine while you and her were here. 

Once the door was closed, Alisa looked back at you apologetically. “Sorry about them! They can be a little overbearing sometimes.” she gave you a small smile and pulled out two plates. “I think that’s an understatement.” you replied quietly. 

She laughed loudly, earning a smile from you. “I’m glad you’re okay now though.” she looked at you, smile instantly gone from her face. “You are okay, right?” You nodded, and she relaxed, serving your food onto the plates and bringing them round to the coffee table you were sat facing. “It might be a little hot. Wait a bit before you try it.”

You picked up your plate and put it onto your lap, the warmth of it heating your legs, as if the heat of the room wasn’t already enough. Your face felt warm and your hands shook slightly as you reached to pick up the food; you were either hungry or nervous. It was probably best to not think about it too much.

Alisa was staring at the TV that was sat on a polished wooden desk by the wall, her eyes mirroring the images from the screen. From the looks of it, she was watching a documentary on animals in the arctic, probably one you’d seen before. You weren’t looking at it, but the narrator’s voice sounded familiar and when you were little you’d watch stuff like that constantly, sometimes the same one over and over again until you got bored of it then moved on to the next one (which you’d also - metaphorically - beat half to death and then abandon)

After your meal, the two of you were still, to your displeasure, sat it silence. Alisa had turned the show off and was now sat reading a book and you were fiddling with your hands, waiting for her to notice you and let you go home (really, you could leave any moment, but you didn’t want to say anything first). 

You stood up upon hearing Lev shouting from what you assumed was his room, and Alisa’s head immediately snapped up. She checked the time on the clock above the kitchen counter, and gasped, looking at you apologetically. 

“Gosh! Y/n, you should have told me it was so late! I’ll walk you home.”

You shook your head, and the blonde girl in front of you sighed. “Are you sure? It’s getting dark. At least let me call you a taxi, ok?”. You hummed out a noise of approval and she picked up her phone that had been resting precariously on the arm of the sofa. 

As she was speaking to the person on the other end of the line, (a series of yeses followed by her address and then your street. You smiled, tapping your chest and then sliding your arms into the sleeves of your jacket. She opened the door for you and the taxi pulled into her drive as you stepped out of the threshold; you waved at her, thanking her for your stay, and then wandered over to the taxi, sitting in your usual seat (behind the driver) and she only closed the door of her home when the car drove off. Your phone buzzed; ‘text me when you get home safe, ok! -Alisa <3’.    

-

The next month was January.

The holiday season had passed without you seeing Alisa once, except for in a corner shop once, where you pretended not to see her but ended up being approached anyways. That time there was a pink coating her porcelain skin (you weren’t sure whether it was makeup, the cold or an actual blush, but you opted for the last one to satisfy yourself somewhat).

You sort of wished that you’d been able to spend the holidays with her, though. Sometimes, you found yourself thinking about her unconsciously. It was weird, but you ignored it. Stuff like that seemed like a lot of effort to you, and you were not notorious for being invested in relationships, platonic or romantic. 

You only had one class today, and after that you saw her in the hallways. She’d obviously had a class in the same building of you, and as usual, you pretended not to have seen her. You just kept walking, coffee in hand, eyes on the floor. Again, like the first time you’d really talked, you heard her footsteps approaching and accepted your fate. 

“Y/n! Hey!” she kept walking after you; you buried your face into your scarf and tried to get yourself to stop but it felt like your feet were moving on their own. Why were you ignoring her? You liked her, for god’s sake! You barely knew her, you should be using moments like these to get to know her better! What the hell were you doing?

Her hand landed on your shoulder and pulled you back. By now, the pair of you were outside, and your feet were crunching over newly layed snow. It was coming down thickly, you had to squint to see her properly. She looked tired, and her face was pale in comparison to the pink of the tip of her nose and her ears. It was cold, after all, and she didn’t have a scarf of hat or anything. You wanted to lend her yours; that was what people who were close did, wasn’t it? Why did she look so bedraggled anyway? 

“Y/n, seriously, stop.” 

You frowned, confused. You looked sad? And why would she care anyways? You weren’t close, and you could see her friends looking on from the steps of the building. The snow was catching in her hair and it felt like time had stopped; she really did look unreal. “I didn’t know you cared about me so much, Alisa. We’re not close, and we barely ever talk.”

It looked like she was about to cry. Maybe it was the cold?

“I don’t need a reason to care about you, y/n!” she reached a hand up to rub her eyes, “I can’t seem to stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy!” she pointed to her friends on the steps, “They know it!” she was shouting now, and the wind seemed to whistle even louder in your ears, “Everyone else seems to know i’m in love with you except you! And i’m sorry if i didn’t make it obvious enough for you.”

At this point your brain was going overdrive to process what she’d just told you. You knew you probably looked stupid just standing there and staring at he but what else could you do? This wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured your evening going, and despite receiving confessions before this one felt different; you felt like your heart was on fire. It burned, and you were out of breath despite standing completely still. Alisa reached out and took your freezing cold hand into her own. She was surprisingly warm, and there were tears dripping off of her chin onto her coat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, you probably never felt the same way. Like you said, right? We barely even know each other.”

You stepped forward (again, it felt like you weren’t in control of your own feet) and with the hand Alisa wasn’t holding, cupped her cold cheek. She looked back at you and you could see her friends out of the corner of your eyes chewing the inside of their cheeks. It was embarrassing to say the least, but necessary. Alisa sniffed, and you looked back down at the ground, shaking your head. “No that’s not what i..” you tried to make your voice louder, “I just didn’t expect you to also feel like that.” 

She laughed (it was probably the most beautiful noise you’d ever had the pleasure of hearing) and leaned in so that your foreheads were touching, her pretty smile still adorning her lips. “I’m glad,” she whispered, and the burning of your cheeks felt like a blazing fire across your face. 

“Call me later, ok?” you nodded as she moved her face away, hand leaving yours reluctantly. “We can go out sometime. If it’s uhh.. okay with you, of course.” You giggled, and Alisa waved, her friends running after her (also giggling and patting Alisa’s head in what looked like celebration). It had stopped snowing, and the sun was shining through the clouds in a golden evening glow, lighting up the city marvellously. You decided to walk home today.

tags; @chqrryvelvet @wissbby

[random-mha-thoughts]

Name (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x fem!Reader

Anon asked: “suggestion for Todoroki angst : he got in an arranged marriage with S/O because of his dad who offered a large amount of money to her family for this. Indeed it’s not what they are both looking for but Todoroki really acts cold, is sharp, openly criticizes her (a bit OOC ik) ... S/O is hurt but is still trying to be a good wife around the house to make the best of the situation and hide her insecurities. It’s just an idea, if it does not inspire you I hope you will find something better!! xx

Genre: Angst. Just...angst. I’m so sorry in advance plz don’t hate me

Warnings: Grab your tissues, this is a long roller coaster that’s only going downhill OH GOD I’M SO SORRY

Word count: 3,059

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ 

a/n: (Submission 1/3 for my post asking for todo angst ideas!  Thanks for the ask anon!)

Um. This is...depressing.  Really depressing and really intense.  I didn’t expect it would turn out this way.  But it did.  I had 2 other endings, but I instinctively wrote this one.  I actually had to stop and cry for a few minutes because it was just really painful I mean, I know I said I was ready to but I didn’t actually mEAn it

I tried a different style for this, but I think it suits the story well.  It’s 3rd person limited because I wanted you to experience everyone’s feelings in this (gotta maximize on the angst yknow) and half past tense bc of reasons you’ll find out.

God I’m afraid to post this. Is it bad that I love it, I honestly spent so much time writing this, but it hurts sO mUch?? Y’all are gonna hate me, you’re gonna kill me, oh no, just read the thing already, I’m hiding.

Buy me a coffee?

Shoto didn't know how to react to the news.  It's not that he had his eye on anyone in particular, or that he was even interested in marriage for that matter.  But because he proposed it, the man who had spent his entire childhood controlling every aspect of his life, he refused to accept any other intrusions from the man he should call "father."

The strange man across from his father spoke those words so casually.  "So Endeavor, when are these two tying the knot?"

At first, he thought he had misheard or misunderstood.  And then his father responded just as casually, "The date is set for next month."

The normally calm and collected boy almost burst the entire room into flames.  He clenched the silverware so hard his knuckles turned white and his teeth ground together, but he couldn't say anything in front of his father's guest and his daughter for fear of shaming himself.  The girl across from him offered a sympathetic look, but he turned away, already preparing the earful he's going to give his father.

-

"I want nothing to do with this!" he whirled on Endeavor as soon as they were home.  "You've made my life a living hell controlling every single thing!  And now you even want to control my marriage?!"

"I'm doing this for you!" Endeavor bellowed right back.  "For the Todoroki name!  For your future!"

"This is all for you!  I want no part-!"

"If you don't agree, you'll never see your mother or the siblings again."

The calm threat was enough to drench Shoto's wrath into submissive fear.  The flaming monster in front of him proved once again that he hasn't an ounce of sympathy for his blood.  He's learned that family is the only thing keeping his son under his thumb and he still actively exploits that weakness.

All the boy can do is swallow and walk away, retreating to the outside world to escape his bitter reality even temporarily.  Shoto doesn't have outbursts often, but there are times when the straw finally breaks the camel's back, and this is one of them.  All he can do is run until he can't run anymore, reaching somewhere secluded enough where he can burst out in flames and ice without hurting anyone, finally getting to a forest where he can do exactly that and scream to his heart's content.  It's the only thing he can do that is under his own control.

In the month that followed up to the wedding, Shoto barely spoke a word to anyone, choosing to isolate himself.  He only came out when he absolutely had to show his face at functions to the bride's family and look presentable.  His mind was always absent, the time flying in a blur of colors and white.  Thankfully, his father did the preparations, so all he had to do was go along with everything.  Shoto was simply playing a role in a play or movie, he was an actor who deserved an award for being in character for a month.

The night of the wedding, he and his newly-wedded wife were whisked away to their new home, being alone for the first time together.  He didn't even know what she looked like nor did he care.  As soon as they walked through the door of their already-furnished house, he released a heavy breath, brushed past her, unbuttoned his tuxedo, and - cold as his ice quirk - instructed, "I'm going to bed.  Don't come up tonight."  It was the first time he had ever spoken directly to her.

His wife, through this entire ordeal, was patient with him.  She didn't want this arrangement either, but she figured they could at least talk and come to a mutual agreement.  The entire month, she never pushed him to speak to her.  She anticipated that he would be rational about this, as she was told by her family, and that they would be able to talk things over when they were finally alone.  Just as she was going to speak her mind the way she had rehearsed it many times, he dismissed her.  She was hurt, but she understood.  He's exhausted after a whole month of stress and preparations, she rationalized, He just wants to rest.  I wouldn't want to talk to a stranger after all that either.

Resolving to try again tomorrow morning, she undressed (with great difficulty), crept into the master bedroom for her clothes while Shoto showers, retrieved her pajamas quietly, and retreated back to the living room.  The girl searched all the closets for a thick enough blanket and settles down to sleep on a couch, the exhaustion putting her right to sleep.

The next morning, the new Mrs. Todoroki woke up bright and early to make breakfast for her husband as an olive branch.  She toiled away in the kitchen, somewhat making a racket even though she wanted to stay quiet so Shoto can sleep.  Just as she finished setting the table and had to face the question of how to wake him, the boy padded down from the room.

"Oh, morning!" she smiled brightly at him.

He murmured a greeting back only to be polite, his face devoid of any real emotions other than coldness.  He sat as far away from her a possible, thanking her for the meal halfheartedly and digging in without another word.

After waiting a few moments to let him satisfy his hunger, she cleared her throat.  "So, um-"

"Your tamagoyaki needs more soy sauce and butter," he stated bluntly.

She blinked at the harsh comment.  It was shocking he said anything to her at all, and the first thing he said was an insult.

"And the miso has no flavor," he continued in the same tone.

The girl finally gathered her wits.  "I'll do better tomorrow.  Thanks for the feedback, I guess?" she laughed nervously, trying to erase the immense tension Shoto bled into the atmosphere.  When he didn't respond, she tried again.  "I know this isn't something either of us wanted, but that doesn't mean we have to live here like enemies.  We could be friends, or even just roommates!"

"I'd rather be strangers," he interjected harshly.

It felt like a stab in the heart.  Here she was, trying to make their lives somewhat bearable together through their common misfortune, and all he wanted to do was live like ghosts in the same house.

Shoto placed his chopsticks down firmly, glaring her straight in the eyes with the iciest hatred she's ever seen.  "Just to be clear, I want no part of you.  You live your life and I live mine.  You can have the bedroom to sleep at night if you want, but it's mine when I come home to shower and prepare for bed.  We will not sleep, talk, or breathe near each other as long as we are in this house."

She dipped her head in defeat, unable to bear the weight of his stare.  "C-Can we at least have our meals together?" she asked feebly.

It's something he respected, coming from family values no matter how broken.  It's the only exception he made to their less-than relationship.

Months passed and she kept her end of the bargain through a suffocating routine.  At first, the girl was kind, trying to get him to open up to her somehow without overstepping her boundaries.  She made excuses for him constantly.  He's just tired.  The least I can do is leave him alone.  I can't comfort him anyway, I'm a stranger.  He's still upset about the whole thing, he'll come around.  She even begged her boss to let her leave a little early every day to make sure she had ample amount of time to get home, shower, and prepare dinner before Shoto returned.  When he did, he wordlessly showered, sat down to dinner, nitpicked at her cooking, finished eating, and went to sleep on the living room couch, all without even sparing her a glance.

But as every day passed, she grew more weary and worn in her efforts to please him.  She tried to fix every little complaint Shoto had about her cooking or the cleanliness of the house or the laundry, but nothing seemed to satisfy him.  She tried to hold onto the silver lining.  At least he never touched me wrong or took advantage of me, she would think bitterly.  He has the decency not to take his anger out on me.

Then the dark thoughts closed in as he continued ignoring her. Surely, Shoto's only disgusted with his father, he doesn't harbor hatred for her personally.  Then she would remember the hate and disgust in his mismatched eyes the first day of their marriage.  She realized no matter how desperately she tried, he wouldn't show her any signs of warmth or appreciation.  No more did she try to make conversation with him during meals or greet him when he came home.  There were days she thought, Why should I even try?  He wouldn't like it either way.  What's the point of getting up today?  Maybe he'll even criticize how I sleep.  But she still rose out of bed every morning and carried out her routine because it could always be worse.

A sliver of hope came in the form of Shoto's birthday.  The girl figured if she did something just a little special, he would acknowledge her even the tiniest bit.  She spent days beforehand researching and testing out the perfect cold soba recipe because she knew it was his favorite.  She lit some candles on the table and bought a small cake for them to share.

When he came home, she was sure he would notice and say something, but he didn't; he went straight up to the bathroom as he usually did without a word.  Though she felt the glimmer lessen in her heart, she didn't give up.  For the first time in a while, she verbalized her thoughts to him.

"I made your favorite for your birthday!" she chirped as he sat down, setting the plate and a cup of dipping sauce in front of him.  She was so eager for him to try it because she was confident she'd gotten it right this time.  If she were a dog, her tail would've wagged in anticipation as he slurped the noodles into his mouth.  She waited patiently for his feedback, leaning forward in excitement as he swallowed.

"The noodles are slightly overcooked.  And the dipping sauce is too strong, you didn't add enough water."

Her hopes came crashing to a halt.  She couldn't even muster anything else to say as he hastily finished his dinner and rose to leave.

She stood up, heart hammering in her chest.  "What about the cake?"  Anything, something!

"I don't want it."  He turned his back to her.

"I got it for you!"  It was the first time she explicitly stated her intentions, the first time she made herself vulnerable.

"You shouldn't have gotten it at all.  It was a waste of time.  Why did you even try?"  The calm and cold words stung her as he got up and left her in the dining room alone.

His words echoed against the empty walls of the dining room.  She looked down at the cake he disregarded, feeling cold and dizzy.  She took a shaky breath in and out before resting her head on the cold glass table to stabilize herself.  The voice stabs through her even as she closed her eyes to block them out.

It was then she felt bluntly in her mind.  He hates me.  

-

The girl feels nothing but numbing cold, both on her face and inside.  Rolling up to sit, her neck and back cry out in soreness from sleeping on the table, pale light greeting her from the nearby window.  Her face feels strange, and she trudges to the bathroom mirror to check why.  She knows she should be preparing for work, but what's the point?  Her reflection reveals lines across her cheek, probably from sleeping on the edge of the table.  She shuffles to the kitchen because she should probably start breakfast, but why should she?  Leaning against the counter, she can't bring herself to move anywhere.  Her brain buffers as she tries to force herself to think of what to do now.  She doesn't feel sick, but there's a dull, cool feeling in her limbs that she can't face.

The phone rings, catching her off guard.  Glancing at the number, she doesn't hesitate to answer.  "Hello?"

"Hi, baby.  It's me."

Her eyebrows relax, appreciating the sound of a familiar voice.  "Hey, Mom.  What's up?"  She knows her voice sounds weak, she's hoping the woman can't hear it.

"I'm just checking in, you haven't called in a while.  Is something up?  You don't sound good."

"I'm...fine," she stumbles over the word.  "How's dad?"

"He's doing well.  You sure you're not sick, sweetie?"

"I'm not."  She leans her back on the counter.

"Is Shoto there?  How is he?"

And just like that, she feels something dislodge in her throat.  "He's going to work, he probably left early."  She doesn't know, there hasn't been any rustling in the house.

Her mom is silent for a while.  "Tell me the truth.  What happened?"

The sound of her mother's stern voice moves something in her chest.  "It's nothing, I just made a mistake."

"Doing what?"

"I tried making Shoto's favorite dish for his birthday yesterday.  I put so much time and energy into perfecting it for him to enjoy it, but I fell short again."  She laughs bitterly, tears starting to fill her eyes.  "He didn't even want the cake I got for him, he said it was a waste.  I shouldn't have bothered with it."  She blinks and a tear slides down her face.  "I don't know why I was expecting something different to happen, I'm so stupid."

"Honey, where is this coming from?  What's going on?"

She wipes her face, but more spill out of her eyes as she slides down the cabinet onto the cold floor.  "It's just a little frustrating when you're sharing a house with someone you're married to and they barely acknowledge you.  I mean, I expected there to be problems at first given the circumstances, but I didn't expect this."  Her voice shakes with every word.  "God, what did I do to deserve this?  I've lived in this house for 5 months, and never has he even said 'thank you' to me.  Hasn't breathed a word of appreciation to me.  I do so much for him.  I've bent over backwards for him just to make everything done the way he wants it, I've worked my entire routine, my entire life in this house to cater to him, but all he does is complain!"  She sobs into the phone, curling up into a ball as tremors wrack through her body.  "I'm just so tired.  I don't know how much more I can take.  I've made so many excuses for him, but I just can't do anything right.  Why am I even still here?"

Her mother is silent on the other line.  "My baby, if I knew this would happen, I wouldn't have allowed this marriage.  I can't believe you're going through this."

The girl can't formulate words or think anything coherent.  She drops the phone out of her hand, wrapping her legs to her chest as the tremors continue in waves, muffled whimpers the only thing escaping her lips because she's afraid to cry out loud despite being in an empty, lonely house.

-

Shoto heard something he probably shouldn't have, but he definitely needed to hear.  It bothered him for the rest of the day.  It was a sobering slap in the face that made him feel shame and regret, a hard-to-swallow pill that sat in his stomach the entire day.

On his way back home, the sound of her sobs echoes in his mind.  He curses his behavior from the past few months.  At the very least, he made a lady cry, and at the most, he's been a complete asshole.  It's all his fault, that is something he's completely aware of and is ready to take full responsibility for.  All this time, he was stupidly neglecting her out of spite for his father, but he broke her in the process.  He's angry that he had to hear her crying to realize that.  The only thing he can do now is hurry home to profusely apologize for what he's done and hope they can start over new and she forgives him, which he's prepared for her not to do.

Honestly, he deserves all the hate from her that he's shown her.  After everything she's done for him and all the effort she's put into their imbalanced relationship, he wouldn't be surprised if she yelled at him and called him all sorts of names.

Shoto walks through the door, the atmosphere different.  The house is quiet as usual, but it's more eerie than he remembers, as if that means anything with how aloof he was.  He slips into the bedroom and changes quickly, returning back to the quiet dining room where his dinner waits for him at his place.

He tentatively sits and spares a quick glance at the girl who's supposed to be his wife.  Her eyes are still puffy and she's tugging at her sleeves.  It seems she's avoiding him and he was avoiding her before.  He questions how things should start.   When is the right time to speak his piece.  Would she listen to him now?  He decides to take a bite first and chews slowly.  I guess a 'thank you' is a good place to start-

"We're getting a divorce."

He stops suddenly, almost choking.

"You don't owe me anything, and I don't want anything from you."  She isn't looking at him, voice calm and collected.  "Besides, it's better this way since it's what you wanted."  She rises from her seat smoothly.  "I've already packed for the next few nights.  I'll have some workers come in the following weeks to clear out the rest, and the papers will be delivered promptly."  Her footsteps recede from the room.

Shoto turns around to call out to her, and his minds comes up blank.

He never even bothered to remember her name.

~

Sequel?

Sequel!

[helahades]

the sexiest wip list

alright! reminder that this is a dark fic blog. dark fics are not just noncon, but uncomfortable subject matter and questionable thought processes and unreliable povs. control your media experience and read warnings carefully! they’ll be updated when the actual story releases, but these are wips, and i don’t know them all bc I simply have not finished these stories!

some darker warnings on this list include: threats of sexual violence, obsession, death, and previously mentioned unreliable povs from obsessive characters who justify themselves.

final reminder to read warnings! some of these are intense.

1) Jealous Thor (Untitled)

warnings: cheating, mean!reader, angst

You’re falling for Steve right under his nose. Each day, Thor feels you pull farther away. Each night, he squeezes his eyes shut as you lie asleep next to him, and tries to forget the way you lookat Steve these days with hunger and adoration that you once gave to him.

“He is earthly. For all his body’s and mind’s possession of unnatural experimental growth, he is earthly and limited, so Thor can’t understand why you’re drawing away from him, and telling Steve the jokes, giving Steve all the looks that had him hooked. The lingering eyes and touches… they ride the line of decency.”

—

2) Heimdall Angst (Untitled)

warnings: major character death, grief, existentialism, out of body experiences

Connected by incredible wisdom and duty to fate, you and The Gatekeeper of Asgard are pulled together by the unique pairing of your mutual seeing abilities—made for greatness, and destined for tragedy.

This story stretches from the moment that catalyzes your meeting, across the years of loving him, to the moment you lose him.

“A fateful tragedy. He sees an arrow through a dove.

He wonders how he missed your encounter with him in the whispers of the cosmos.

“—They’re star deaths,” you say abruptly, “the ones that move and change color. They speed up when you watch them—show their whole life to come...I read about them. Most can’t ever see them life this”.

Turning to where you stand beside him, his eyes swirl with the magic of knowing you, of your destinies combined. He sees you stare at his stars like they’re new.

“Only us.”

—

3) Away from the Party - Steve Smut

warnings: smut, dubcon, roughness, manipulation, unintentional exhibition

Steve hates these parties. After a mission, the work has just begun, and he fumes at the impossible way that Tony covers all problems in diamonds and pearls. Some things aren’t meant to be pretty.

You are. You’re soft, and kind, and you coax him gently away from the party—the source of his frustrations, with promises of leaving early, of calming down. Oh. He’ll calm down. And you’re just the toy to help. In a closet a corner away from the government’s finest, America’s golden boy has a hand on your throat and one demand.

“Keep quiet.”

“Of course, you both ended up at the party anyway, but with you swirling cool fingertips at his aching temples and rubbing softly over the stretch marks on his chest, he couldn’t find anything in heart to disagree with you then.

Even now with his erection pressed to you through barriers of clothing, with scarcely retrained and monstrous lust, he is steadily calmed by your presence. This rush, the secrecy—it excites him. And you pull him through the haze of it.”

—

4) Monster Thor Headcanons

warnings: wound and gore descriptions, some sadness

The fantasy of it all. Aesthetic, Lifestyle, Behavior. Some talking points include: hair, horns, hints about how he was influenced by a soft and charming lover many years ago, general horniness. Also spoiler that I’ve decided that He is 8ft tall

“Thor is...ancient. he is a being of war and folklore and raw energy and he’s earthy and elemental and connected. and form follows function. (and also whatever horny thoughts we want )”

—

5) The Call

warnings: voyeurism, death threats, obsession, implied sexual assault threats

When Frank comes to visit you, you beam like a sunflower. You’ve rearranged your room, and you’re excited about it. He would like to revel in the moment with you...but he’s caught up in one detail. Your bed is pushed against the window...and he can’t convince you to let him move it.

After a night of sin and wild lovemaking, you lie asleep bathed in moonlight, and Frank wakes to a call. Billy. He’s set up on a rooftop miles away, and he’s got things to say about Frank’s girl and what he’d like to do to her. A red dot on his chest means he can only listen. To your gentle snoring, and to the twisted fantasy of a brother unhinged.

“Black silk pajamas. Hair wrapped up in satin. Yellow light almost like sun stretches to the ceiling, but not quite over the rolling hills of your silhouette turned away from him in quiet sleep.

Frank’s hardly got the time to wonder why he’s awake, because his phone buzzes slow again. Pulls the moment he realizes he will have to break this magic peace to molasses and he half fills his lungs before huffing it out and flipping the phone open and tucked between his ear and shoulder.

“What.”

“She’s a reaaaaal pretty one, Frankie boy. You sure know how to pick em.”

—

6) Loki Longing (Untitled)

warnings: pregnant!fem reader, angst

On the Eve of the birth of Asgard’s heir, Thor is away. In a bath of flowers and magic to ease your pain, maidens worry over you, and Loki rescues you away, letting you rest in bed, and dreaming of the days when you were his lover instead.

“I’d like to rest…in my bed now, please.”

The ladies look to each other. It hasn’t been long enough for the herbs to take effect.

“My Queen,” the eldest starts—

“She is certainly your queen,” a silky silver timbre interrupts, “I’ve learned it’s best to mind her.”

His eyes fall to your form, and some blocked conflict—some guarded affection rests there. Some longing tucked in a pocket like an impossible secret.

—

7) With Child - Obsessive Steve

warnings: pregnant!fem reader, obsessive Steve

Watching you content, and very pregnant, as you gaze adoringly at your husband Thor from where you rest, half in his lap, Steve can’t help but fantasize. He thinks about impregnating you, the mechanics of sex with a pregnant woman, and being the god who does it all.

“Do you have to lie on your side? Is Thor just behind you, spooning you, fucking with desperate thrusts because you drive him so crazy this way? Steve has heard—and he doesn’t know where—that women get wetter when with child. Steve can’t help but wonder...does Thor need to hold one leg up for you—to save your back that’s so often heavy with the weight of supporting his legacy?”

—

8) Dean’s Girl

warnings: unreliable pov (john), voyeurism, masturbation + voyeurism

John notices the way you avoid him. You always seem to leave a room just as he’s coming into it. He’s living in the bunker now, and having to realize a lot of things that have changed for the both of his sons.

For example, his oldest, the last he’d ever think would fall in love, has got a pretty girl that dismisses her practical father in law with pointed boredom. She’s protective—how can he blame her after all that he’d put Dean through?

She’s pretty, and John is only a man, and can’t stop himself from just...looking. It starts with a convenient bend as she unloads the dishwasher...then he..can’t help that the door was open and she happened to be changing right there. He also can’t help it the next time when he’s just a little too obvious, pleasuring himself to the smell of her pretty lace panties.

—

9) Operator, Operator - Steve Smut

warnings: smut, financial troubles?, mentions of creepiness against and danger to sex workers, exhibitionism via phone call

Underpaid and overworked, you along with your roommate/secret crush/ best friend Steve have trouble making ends meet on minimum wage + his art commissions. When you start picking up calls on a phone sex line, he’s able to reason. It’s quick cash, and Steve is mature enough to keep his thoughts appropriate...at first.

One day, he wakes to the sound of breathy moans and a faked orgasms. He wonders how you would sound if only you were high on real pleasure...and there’s no time like the present. Don’t hang up. This call has only just started.

“By the time this year—junior year—swung around, Steve realized he was only catching glimpses of you. He would hear the shake of your keys when you tossed them on the counter, your backpack when it thudded to the floor, and most recently—your moans.

You must not know he’s home. Ever since you started online sex work, specifically being a phone sex operator, you seemed to also make the silent choice that more graphic calls would be saved for when he’s not around.

He gets it. You both split the rent, and Steve has done jobs he’d rather not mention in desperate times, when commissions came short. Still, sometimes you can’t tell when he’s here, and despite his best efforts to push down his arousal, to tell himself you’re his best friend...he’s an artist, and he can’t help but listen, and certainly not the wandering of his imagination.”

—

10) Professor Steve Medfet - (Untitled)

In an alternate timeline, a washed up Steve Rogers starts a new life in a run down city as an art / anatomy teacher. A class of hungry college students is filled to the brim each year, expecting the unspoken promise of their favorite hands on lab. You.

You keep his class sated, in turn giving the professor job security for funding his simple life out of the public eye. Each year when he calls, you come. Each year the students find a new way to tear you embarrass and degrade, much to the pleasure of the professor.

“Same speech. Same meaningless words. Focusing on the stillness of your skin and how it feels to be alone, you can almost drown out the way his tone edges toward excitement, the way the chairs shift and squeak—the anticipation.

Pretending your heart doesn’t send heat and cold flashes through you and run your breathing shallow, you look at the nicks in the door and try to guess their stories.

But then the metal frame clicks, the door unlatches. Professor Rogers wears a gentle smirk. It doesn’t ease your mind one bit.”

—

11) Swelter - Forest God Thor

warnings: sexual scenes, time limited conflict, religious themes

With a sickness overtaking nearby villages, yours is next, and has decided to sacrifice you to the cause of foraging for preventative herbs. You venture into the ancient woods after a rare vine of flowers, but leave with much more after encountering Thor.

After disturbing him where he lies cooling in the bank of a stream, you vow to prove the true intention of your soul—that you aren’t a hunter, or witch after his form or faculty, but a pious girl, also needing to escape the heat.

“You’re in the old woods now, and aside from the trees and the mossy nature tangled around them, there is only Him. Thor.

God of the harvest, bringer of land’s wealth, fertility, and vitality. You know of the sacrifices, of the woods where He is rumored to live in an unseen form, of livid white fire in the sky if He is severely displeased.

His name must not be spoken outside of prayer or ritual, and even now, you stutter to think it, and wonder if you are alone in your thoughts.”

[...]

“The frustration and the fear in your dilemma disturb the air, disquieting the otherwise enduring peace of the old woods, which rouses a large form in the cool muddy bank of the stream. It is only leaves shifting at first. Faded pumpkin and dried oak scatter—and suddenly the air smells like rain and your mouth sets around the tastes of copper and sage. Then, the leaves tumble off of a beast of a mass that rises slowly, and you note that it felt like the atmosphere changed to accommodate its awakening.”

—

12) Halloween Party - Thor Smut (Untitled)

warnings: smut, heartbreak, depressed!reader

An exclusive and mysterious Halloween party is still on this year—and you’re invited. It’s meant to be so extravagant and flashy an Avenger will one day attend, and all attendees decorate themselves in costumes inspired by the heroes, hoping to be noticed.

Fresh after a breakup with your boyfriend Brock, you take one half of the preordered couples costume and dress up as a goddess, determined to have a good night with your friends, find some excitement, and most importantly, a new god to match.

“Standing solemn, floor to ceiling windows allow in a few milky rays reflected by the moon, but they’re all the gems of your bodice need to gleam to a suitor's eye. Tonight, while you plan to rid your soul of another, you are welcomed with open arms and careful consideration as the final offering at an altar. You are seen by a god.”

—

13) Grief

warnings: dead!reader, guilt, grief, scary science, how do i say this... smut that is borderline necroph—there’s a replica of you, dark!steve, tony lives, pepper dies

Steve’s world is upside down. He’s lost the light of his life, and is completely in the dark. Luckily for him, Tony is back in the business of reality rejecting technology, and has found a way for him to be with you again.

At an abandoned cottage, Steve brings an armful of your scents to give the Tony’s invention sensory data, and faces the strange reality of what’s always been his worst stage...his worst trait. Denial.

“Dozens of test bottles full of manufactured scents, the kind of thing you smell borrowing a sweater, or with your face in the crook of someone’s neck. Essentially, the sort of organic thing that cannot be recaptured.

Steve’s got an armful of perfume and body wash. Of conditioner and deodorant, of all the elements he can think that make you smell the way you would—the way you do.

He wills the thoughts to be present tense. If he pretends you are alive, maybe it will look like it is you only sleeping. He wonders how well Tony knows the texture of your hair suddenly, because if it isn’t right, the experience will fall to shambles. It currently walks a plank over shambles. One wrong interpretation or surprise, and Steve will find himself spinning and burning with the fall into a new and uncharted taboo.”

14) Night Drive - Dean Smut

warnings: road head

On a long overnight drive, your back pressed into the seat of the impala makes you miss lying in bed with your lover, makes you miss his gentle caress right next to you...so you remind him how good it is to be close.

“You think about it when he hums a little tune. When he hums the song he wishes would play and thinks will come up next, it is eerily soft, and eerily similar to the soft contentment he sighs when you kiss on his neck.

When he reaches for your hand to hold, it makes you consider the shortness of the distance between you, and you think of pulling his cock out right here, giving him head that melts him here on this endless road.

Looking at him, he senses your interest—he turns his head to meet your eyes, throws up a grin of boyish charm. He’s happy to be here with you. These night drives are fine. He’s never minded them. But they’re even lovelier when in your company.”

—

15) Shadow - The Bucky Mystery

warnings: stalking, injury, sexual assault, canon typical hydra torture, mentions of bucky being forced to assault people, traumatized reader

On the run from Hydra, there aren’t many things that Bucky can remember. Inside his mind, there aren’t many feelings that make sense. Mostly, he feels guilt. Horror.

Following you to the gym where you practice ballet alone in the nights is all that makes sense, and for reasons he can’t explain, he feels drawn to you.

As time goes on, Bucky feels more enticed by his desire, you start to feel eyes staring from the walls, motivations and traumas are revealed, and in a horrible symphony, you both remember your connection.

“He’s a matte shadow against the noir shine of metal walls—an observer in the unlit quiet on his side of the room.

And he feels his unimportance. It’s humbling. Holds up the room like chunky beams and high rafters, dressed in the same layered neutrals. Framing the same cotton candy dancer, silent as the pad of her slippers when she turns her weight onto a straight leg, other coming up with her ankle pointed to the bend of her knee.

She spins, she spins and she whips her head around with each one, but it’s Bucky who gets dizzy.”

send an ask with any questions, or for more details about a particular story!

[mysticm3ss]

a new home | jumin x fem!mc

words: 1.8k

warnings: references to covid-19. also inaccuracies probably, idk how south korea is handling the outbreak, i’m just using my own experiences bc that’s what i know and writing this was more of a therapy for me than anything else.

summary: you’re staying with jumin during the covid-19 quarantine. he’s down. you comfort him. that’s it folks

i never ever thought i’d be writing a jumin fic without a prompt but i had a dream last night and it made me hella soft for this man so i had to write about it! apologies if his characterisation feels off at all, i don’t normally write much for jumin.

__________

“Thank you so much for letting me stay, Jumin… with everything happening, I… I don’t think I can handle being totally alone when we go into lockdown. Are you absolutely sure I’m not imposing?” 

Jumin hums in amusement at your fretting, shaking his head. “I’m certain. I’d never wish for you to feel so lonely indefinitely, MC. You’re more than welcome to stay until all of this blows over, and for as long as you’d like afterwards. Besides,” he reasons, “it might be nice to have some company.”

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate it,” you sigh, tension draining from your shoulders as you set your suitcase at the foot of the spare bed. It’s covers are dark blue, sleek, not a hint of lint clinging to the soft fabric. 

“It’s nothing. Make yourself at home—you’re welcome to anything in the penthouse. We’ve plenty of food, though I’m afraid the chef won’t be able to cook for us until this situation is resolved. My apologies.”

“Oh, Jumin, I assure you, that’s fine. I like cooking, anyway.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Jumin’s lips. “Perhaps you’d allow me to try your cooking at some stage, MC. You’ve got me curious.”

You laugh, and Jumin’s responding smile has your stomach fluttering and your heart melting like warm honey. The amusement reaches his eyes, and their grey depths gleam silver in the soft glow of the bedroom light. You wonder if this is the first genuine smile of his you’ve seen, and you berate yourself for the burning of your cheeks. The mere curve of a mouth shouldn’t elicit such a response—he didn’t even show teeth, for God’s sake…

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities for that.” You manage to suppress the tremor in your tone, and your fingers fiddle anxiously at your side, the pad of your thumb rubbing anxious circles against your forefinger.

Jumin chuckles. “I’m sure we will. I’ll allow you to settle—I’ll be in my office, should you need anything.”

As he leaves, you swear you can see the trace of a blush on his cheeks.

Ignoring the unreasonable stammer of your heart, you half-heartedly begin to unpack. Toiletries in the ensuite (is that really a marble bathtub?!), a few clothes in the closet, a sentimental soft toy by your pillow. Floor to ceiling windows look out to the sun dipping below the city, and you watch the few people who dared venture outside scramble to return home, their arms loaded with grocery bags stuffed with toilet paper and non-perishables as the fading light stains them blood red. You’ve never seen the city so quiet.

You jump as something brushes your leg, and you glance down to see Elizabeth the Third rubbing against your ankle. She headbutts your hand as you extend it to her, leaving stray white hairs clinging to your skin. They’re finer than silk, and just as soft.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?”

Jumin’s voice drips with affection as he scoops up the cat in his arms and sits by your side, the bed dipping beneath his weight. Elizabeth settles into his lap, face buried in his Amarni suit as she purrs contentedly. He strokes her fur with long, slender fingers, and you look up to see his magnetic eyes searching yours for a response.

What was the question, again?

“R-right.”

Jumin smiles again, and it has your knees weak. There’s a reason it’s his face plastered across magazine covers, and not his father’s. 

“Let me cook for you tonight. What would you like?”

“Oh, anything is fine…” you’re quick to assure him. “Whatever you feel like making.”

Jumin considers for a moment, eyes flitting to the window as the last streaks of sunlight fade into darkness, broken by the glittering of city lights. He licks his lips in thought, tongue catching between his teeth. You swallow. Hard.

“I should call the chef and ask for recommendations,” he concludes, nodding to himself. “I’ll leave you be.”

The bed springs up as Jumin gets to his feet, immediately lamenting his absence as he walks to the door. Elizabeth, having moved a few moments ago, blinks slowly at you before stalking after her master, the tip of her tail flicking in contentment as she leaves.

You look back to the city, though your attention is stolen as your phone vibrates in your pocket. Dragging it out, you smile as you see a notification from the messenger, immediately opening it.

707: Hey hey! It’s MC!!

707: I heard from a little birdie that you’re living with Mr. CEO-In-Line!!!

ZEN: She’s what?!

ZEN: MC, you need to leave!! 

ZEN: We’re going into lockdown, you can’t be trapped alone with him and that furball!! 

ZEN: Quick!!

ZEN: Do you need me to come rescue you?!?!

MC: Haha it’s okay, Zen, I decided to stay here for a while. I’d get too lonely trapped in my apartment by myself, and there are some issues with rent…

707: Ooooh, Jumin and MC, sitting in a tree…!

ZEN: MC, you could’ve stayed with me!! I… don’t have much in the fridge, and… the spare room is only small, but…

MC: That’s very sweet of you, Zen, but I’m fine here. I promise.

ZEN: Okay… but if he does anything…

MC: I’ll let you know if I’m uncomfortable, okay? Thanks for looking out for me.

707: Soooo, now that that’s settled… are you sleeping in his room with him…?

You flush at Seven’s insinuation, shaking your head to yourself to clear the onslaught of inappropriate thoughts that had involuntarily clouded your mind.

MC: No!! I’m in a spare bedroom!!! We’re just friends!!

MC: I should go now, anyway. Jumin’s in the living room, I’ll go hang out.

ZEN: Okay… be careful!! Bye, MC!

[ZEN has left the chat room]

707: lol ok have fun lovebirds, get it on you two!!

[707 has left the chat room]

Shaking your head fondly, you set down your phone and get to your feet. Walking to the living room, you pause outside the door at the hard tone of Jumin’s voice.

“Yes, I realise what it looks like, but as I said, the tabloids are not my concern. She’s staying here, arrangements have already been made. As I see it, this is no more an issue to the company than your plethora of lovers. I wish you and your latest both luck in the quarantine.” 

Jumin’s cold tone falls into silence, and you hesitantly step into the room to see Jumin sitting at the edge of the couch, his eyes closed and head tilted down as he shakes it to himself. A heavy breath falls through his nose.

“Is… everything okay?”

He looks up immediately, clearing his throat as he straightens his posture. He smiles demurely, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, of course. I was just speaking to my father… is everything to your liking?”

Chewing your lower lip, you hesitantly take the space next to Jumin. His body radiates warmth, the fresh scent of his cologne wafting in the space between you. From all of your interactions in the messenger, you’d sometimes forgotten that Jumin was a real, flesh and blood human being; warm skin despite the coolness of his tone, with feelings that brewed beneath it, under the expensive suits and shoulders burdened with inherited responsibility.

“Yeah, everything’s great… is everything alright with your father? You seem upset…”

Jumin’s jaw twitches, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I’m fine,” he replies coolly, an emotionless smile etched over his features. In this moment, he resembles more a mannequin, or perhaps an android, than a human. His face betrays no hint of feeling.

“I know you’re not.”

Jumin falters.

There it is again. That undeniable, profound humanity.

You see it in the tremble of his lip, the swift droop of his eyes, the shaky breath that he tries so hard to contain. The fist he rests on his knee clenches briefly, and you tentatively rest your hand over his.

He stiffens at the skin-to-skin contact, looking at you in vague disbelief as you offer a sympathetic smile. “Talk to me, honey.”

Jumin’s eyes widen at the endearment, and the reply that follows is so soft, so timid, that there’s a pang in your chest at the sound.

“...how?”

You squeeze his hand. “Just… tell me what’s going through your mind. Sometimes it helps to share.”

He hesitates. You backtrack.

“There’s no pressure if you don’t want to… just know that I’m here whenever you do.”

Jumin shakes his head. “It’s not that… I suppose I just… don’t know where to start. All of my thoughts are so… tangled, that… I’m not sure I can unravel them.”

His voice breaks, and so does your heart.

“Jumin… can I hug you?”

His eyes widen again, but eventually, he nods.

Your arms close around him, your grip loose at first, giving him room to pull away should he so choose. He doesn’t. Though his body is stiff at first, he finally sags against you, breathing ragged as his head falls into the crook of your neck, skin on skin, hot and soft. You run your fingers through his hair as you hear Jumin inhale sharply against your shoulder. You feel the heave of his chest, feel his eyes as they squeeze shut, feel his fingertips digging into the softness of your waist as he clings to you helplessly. Idly, you wonder how long it’s been since he’s been held, since he’s been soothed. Your heart aches at the likely answer. You don’t dwell on the thought.

“You’re okay,” you whisper against his temple. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

With another shaky breath, Jumin pulls away. His hair is messed, his suit disheveled, and his eyes alight with a vulnerability that seems so foreign and yet so normal—so painfully human. His breathing comes in soft exhales through his mouth, and his gaze is tender as he drinks in the sight of you, as though he were a parched man and you were fresh rain.

Jumin raises his hand to your cheek, his thumb smoothing over the skin, marveling in the softness and the blush that rises to your cheeks. He doesn’t say anything, simply leans in close. You feel his breath on your lips, and the hairs on your arms rise as his mouth meets yours.

The kiss is slow and a little clumsy; you can feel your heart slamming against your ribs as he draws you in closer, clutching you desperately as he breathes you in. Your hand slides around to lay against his neck, and he continues to cup your cheek, eyes closed as he melts into every movement of your mouth against his. 

When he pulls away, your cheeks are aflame, and his ears are scarlet. 

“My apologies, I shouldn’t have…”

“Don’t apologise.” Your words come as a whisper, though more eager than you’d intended. You’re met with a gentle smile that makes your heart glow, and again, he leans in to kiss you.

__________

thanks for reading! if you made it this far, why not reblog or reply letting me know what you thought? ❤

[ajokeformur-ray]

You’re my dream when I’m not sleeping // J x Lilith // NSFW aftercare

Summary: You will always be safe with J. The more intense a session, the more intense the aftercare. Truly, the both of you almost enjoy the aftercare more than you enjoy the sex itself... Almost. For J, at least, it provides the perfect opportunity to love on his Hyena a little more fiercely. Not that you’re complaining, of course.

A/N: A personalised piece for @jokershyena​ bc ilyyyyy~ <33333 I hope that you enjoy this, darling!! ^^ <3 

Warnings for swearing, BDSM elements (knife and blood play), NSFW descriptions and allusions to being edged/multiple orgasms within one session, J refers to himself as “daddy” (the things I write for you, istg), aftercare (duh!) and a whole lotta’ lovin’! <3 You get what you deserve ;)

Word count: 2, 935.

There were many rumours, many lies, many speculations and many untruths about your relationship with J, so deeply kept was the secret, so mysterious was his aura and so protective were his men of you but at the core of the truth lay one simple, earth shattering fact:

J loved you, and you loved him.

Gotham knew him to be a chaotic clown, a murderous terrorist. Someone who was cold and unfeeling, a monster... a freak. Someone who wore clothes which were custom made with no labels, the materials expensive and entirely unique, someone who had no last name, no alias, nothing identifiable about him in any way. He was a complete mystery to the city of Gotham and no one knew him. Citizens knew his persona, his murderous tendencies and the way he could bring the entire city to a standstill with a few well timed incidents, but no one knew who he really was.

But you? Oh, you knew J to be a chaotic clown, this was true, but he was also so human. He had told you, once, that his name had been Jack Napier. It had been the night that you had first seen his bare facial scars, the night that you had first learned of his past, what little of it he was willing to tell you, and it was a night which you treasured with all that you were.

Lilith Napier had been the name he had whispered against your lips that night, his full lips soft and warm against your own, his tongue sneaking out to coax your own into a slow and tantalising dance, his hands hot and firm against your bare hips, his fingers flexing as he moved within you, reaching hidden depths which only he could reach. 

That had been the most tender, the most loving and the rawest night which the two of you had experienced together, and you hadn’t been the only one to cry; J had shed one, maybe two tears of his own, though he hadn’t acknowledged them and in his silence and his refusal to brush them away with his usual impatient manner had he told you that he trusted you. that he was able to be himself with you. You had kissed them away, your lips against his damp skin had made him tremble underneath your reverent touch, and J had again whispered your married name against your lips, the cool band of your wedding ring pressed against his heated flesh.

Many a tender night had passed between the two of you,and through your many ups and downs as individuals and as a couple had the two of you established a way of being, a rhythm which was as unique as the both of you were. You allowed J many liberties with who you were and what he was allowed to do with you, to do to you, and in return did he make sure that you were always taken care of, that you knew beyond all shadow of a doubt that you were safe and loved with J, that you were his and that he was yours. Everything was equal in your relationship, but no balance was more important to J than making sure that after an intense session with him, that the aftercare was matched in its ferocity. 

J would never allow you to ever feel even slightly negative about the things that the two of you did together. Even the most vanilla of sessions contained aftercare, for J was nothing if not a man of his word. If he promised you something, then you could be sure that he would follow it through; that he would take care of you as best as he knew how. 

The world knew him to be J, but you knew him to be a perfect balance of J and Jack, such was the influence of your heart over him. He was as safe with you as you were with him.

On this particular night did you lay, shaking and exhausted. Your body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, which mingled and lay mixed with traces of saliva, trickling crimson raindrops of blood, your hair a mess, your chest rose and fell rapidly as you fought to catch your breath. Oh, but you ached. Your throat was sore from how viciously J had fucked your mouth, his thick cock stealing your very breath as he pushed himself in to the hilt again and again and again, his fingers carding through your hair in silent praise and in reassurance. Your hands had gripped his thighs, your nails leaving crescent indents in his sensitive flesh. “You always - unf - take me so well, hyena - made for me, aren’t’cha?” and other praises had fallen from his lips in the form of guttural groans, his head tossed back and greasy curls brushing against the tops of his shoulders. 

The space between your thighs ached too, a tantalising mixture of your natural juices, J’s saliva and his cum; so thoroughly did he love you that it always made your head spin as your back both arched into the mattress and away from it. So blurred was the line between pain and pleasure that you felt both at the same time and never did you know if you wanted more of one or of the other; the way J played your body like a finely tuned instrument was always the sweetest torture, his cock, fingers and mouth always bringing a symphony out of your mouth as you writhed and panted beneath him. Oh, but the silver glint of his pocketknife against your skin was so delicious, and it never failed to make his hips pump a little faster, the sound of skin slapping on skin loud in the room, of J’s animalistic grunts and of your own sounds the accompaniment to the pounding in your head, your blood rushing through your veins and roaring in your ears.

Currently were you laying on your side. J was gone from the bed, having eased himself up moments ago with a weary, tired sigh, and you could hear him ruffling around in the bathroom cabinets, along with the sound of running water. You smiled to yourself; you knew that the both of you almost enjoyed the aftercare more than the sex itself. Almost. It gave J a chance to really spoil you, to check you over and to make sure that you were okay, to bring you down from the session and to bring you back home, back to him. 

You drifted into threshold consciousness at the distant sounds of J close to you, and you were roused from it with a large, careful hand which curved to the slope of your shoulder and turned you around slowly so that you were laying on your back. You winced, and J eyed you critically. “Easy, doll, easy. I got’cha. Where ya’ hurt, hm? Tell daddy where it hurts.”

You felt unable to talk so you settled for showing J where it hurt. He could read you like a book, this you knew, so you shifted your hips and groaned as you moved and wriggled various parts of your body. J catalogued every wince, every hiss of air inhaled through clenched teeth, every muttered “ow, fuck”, every shift. All of your responses were memorised and J began to work out what he was going to do to look after you. He didn’t have a plan, he never had a plan. He only had an idea and so long as that idea came into fruition was J satisfied; it didn’t matter how it happened, just so long as it did.

J’s main concern for the moment was patching up those cuts. Crimson droplets had turned into trails which were beginning to conceal on your skin. At the blade’s point of entry was the blood black, so drawn out had your session been, and he cracked open the dark green first aid kit. J kept his intense chocolate gaze on you the entire time, his hands knew what they were doing. This was as familiar an event to his body as the act of sex itself; though it was never purely physical when the two of you had any kind of session. It was two souls, each as chaotic as the other, melding together to create something so beautiful, so passionate, that the love you shared was bigger than your own selves. You always hesitated to use celestial terms because they could never do your relationship justice; its depths were as murky and as complex as you yourselves were.

He cleaned your wounds with disinfectant, which made you tiredly hiss and pull away from J’s touch, something which felt inherently wrong to you. Each time did J shush you quietly, and when each one was disinfected did he put a small plaster on it. As his careful fingers smoothed over the plaster did he bend down to press a kiss to your injury, as if his love could seep into the plaster and heal your wounds from the inside out. 

Though your wounds were now clean and bandaged, blood still remained on your skin. So - next step - you groaned in slight relief and in pain as J’s hand dipped between your thighs. You clenched your legs shut on impulse, trapping J’s hand there. “A-ta-ta, no."  He tapped your thigh twice, open up for me, and you suppressed a moan as you opened your legs for J, letting him see you. His cum was leaking out of you, pearly white against the pink of your folds, and he hummed both in satisfaction and in thought as he took a moment to just take in what he had done to you.

“J,” You whispered his name to centre yourself and J’s eyes flicked to yours. Two pairs of chocolate eyes met and you saw J smile at you. It was a small, barely there upwards quirk of his full lips from both corners, but you saw the gesture, you saw J, for what it was and for who he was and you felt your stomach swoop. Fuck, you loved him. You did. “I love you.”

The smile deepened on J’s face and he kept his eyes on yours as his hand dipped into the bowl of soapy hot water you hadn’t noticed earlier, wringing out the flannel. J draped the flannel over his hand and two things happened at precisely the same time, making you arch upwards into J. His hand dipped between your legs as he began to wipe you down and his lips claimed yours for his own, swallowing your moans of pain and discomfort as his hand, clinical but full of care, cleaned you up, removing all traces of your session from your sensitive core. Oh, but it hurt and cool shivers danced up your body from the very base of your spine and you pushed your face into the kiss, wanting more of everything which J was giving you so freely, so lovingly.

J kept his lips on yours for as long as his hand was cleaning you up, his movements deft and so gentle that you could only feel the wet warmth between your legs. A finger, covered by the soiled flannel, dipped just inside your folds to clean you there, too, and though it was borderline sensual, the level of tenderness which he was showing you, there was nothing sexual in what J was doing. His lips were slightly rough and yet so affectionate, his tongue sweeping against yours, his teeth nibbling gently at your bottom lip. There was only reverence in his touch now as J lay worship at your altar, telling you in a way only you could hear that he loved you, too. That he always had, always will and always would.

J’s hand, which remained between your thighs, stilled long before his mouth did, his lips trailing across your lower cheek and leaving fire in their wake as he pressed kisses so soft, at least for J, that it made you want to cry. You were sore and tired and you ached in places you didn’t even realise you could ache, so thorough were J’s attentions, so demanding was his body in the way that it put your own to the test, in all the ways that he had claimed you this night, again and again and again. He had edged you, brought you to orgasm multiple times in the same session, and you were well and truly spent.

Finally, J pulled his hand away from you and you missed the reassuring, warm weight of him between your thighs. Your core felt empty, cold, and you both craved for J to once more caress your velvet walls with his thick cock, and for him to leave you alone. J was the very definition of contradiction, of madness within you, and you loved every second of it, every second of him. He pulled away just enough from the kiss so that his nose could brush up against yours as he said, “You’re my hyena, Lilith. My little night monster, hm? There isn’t any me if there’s no you. You’re, ah - you’re im-port-ant to me.”

You choked on a sob, so tired and so emotionally and physically overwhelmed were you, and J cooed mockingly as he left the room to dump out the water and to replace it so that he could wash the rest of you over. He was just as clinical as he dragged the fresh flannel over your face, his touch gentle as he wiped your tears away with a smile in his eyes but not on his lips, your shoulders, your chest - he ghosted over your nipple piercings, so sensitive were they - abdomen, stomach, thighs... your entire body was washed over while J’s eyes searched for bruises, cuts, anything he had missed. He kept the first aid box within reach but otherwise allowed you to drift. He had an inkling that he had pushed you perhaps a little too far this time, but he knew that you would be okay after some sleep. 

Finally, with all of your physical needs met and tended to, it was time for the part which the both of you loved. J was quick to tidy away the discarded plaster papers which had been strewn haphazardly over the bed while he looked after you, dump the used water down the sink and put the bowl back under the sink. He was also quick to take his own wash, water splashing all over the floor, the dirty flannel left in the water which he didn’t bother to drain away before he came back to bed. The bathroom was in a right state, but you weren’t and neither was J and that was what mattered.

Tidying the bathroom could wait. You couldn’t.

The bedroom door shut firmly behind J with a loud click which alerted you to his presence. J didn’t want to startle you, though he was also loathe to disturb your rest. Still, he had to pick the lesser evil. He slid easily into bed beside you, his hand curling around your upper shoulder as he pulled you into his body. J moved slowly, at such a rate that you knew where he wanted you, but just enough that you could control your own movements and therefore cause yourself as little discomfort and pain as possible.

“How ya’ feeling, doll?” 

You groaned sleepily but J poked you hard in the rib. He needed a verbal answer, to know that you were okay. “’M ‘kay, J. Not hurt - just sleepy. ” You got yourself comfortable, hooking a leg over J’s hip to keep him close. It hurt and your inner thighs burned but you needed to feel J between your legs, you just felt so lost without him all over your body. You slung an arm around him and shuffled closer... and closer... and closer, pushing yourself up against J.

With an amused giggle, his body shaking, did J carefully lift you so that you were laying on him. You smiled sleepily and nuzzled in; J always knew what you needed, always, so well did he know you. He ducked his head and rained kisses down upon the crown of your own. His kisses were slow, full of love and of the sense that he was preserving this moment, cherishing it as it was occuring, and each kiss which found purchase upon your head was punctuated with a hum and then a ‘mwah’ as he pulled away.

His arms tucked you into his chest, like a safe cage was J around you as he shielded you from the room, as did the duvet atop your bodies. “You sleepy thing. Get some sleep, hm? Daddy’s got’cha.” J’s voice rumbled in his chest on the way out and you pressed clumsy, sleepy kisses to the bare skin, truly smiling as you did so.

“I love you, J. My J.”

“Mm-hm,” another kiss bestowed upon your head, “and you’re my hyena. Sleep, Lilith.” His tone was firm, his words clear, and as you burrowed down did J squeeze his arms around you, telling you that he was there, that he wasn’t leaving you, that he loved you. With his heartbeat in your ear, his arms locked around you and his breaths matching your own, did you finally slip into sleep the way one gets into a bath:

Slowly and then all at once.

Destructive raccoon boii™ @nothing-but-a-comedy @jokershyena   @anyatheladyclown   @mijachula   @joker-daddy    @rinbyo    @imightaswellnotexistatall    @vladtoly    @joker-is-my-hero    @liz-rdwitch   @enigmaticandunstable        @ledgerskitten    @tsukiakarinobara    @germansarechill      @ezziesworld    @antonija89   @acw1   @sadjesterautumn      @mermaleizroseglasses   @justawriterinprogress

[moonlightjeno]

I demand a 4,4,4 with Jeno queen 😤

but you are the queen :) two things a. sorry youwaited so long and b. asdfg this wasn’t supposed to be this long lmao but ENJOY 

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬: [4. mafia!au] + [4. meet messy] + [4.  “You said so, didn’t you?”]

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: crack, angst and a sprinkle of le fluff. 

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: blood, guns, drugs, cursing !! and this is a fem reader bc made my life easier im sorry !!

𝐰𝐜: 4k 🙃

You’d hated following orders since the day you’d been pushed off for the attacking team just because you were a girl. The day had started with a tang of metal in the air, like how animals can tell when there’s a storm to come from the change in winds from one side to the other, you could tell that blood was going to be shed on your thirteenth birthday. Guns had left blazing the undercover hideout where the attacking team resided, you had been told you’d be able to go and scout the area, after all, you’d be the best scout the mafia had ever seen even at the mere age of thirteen. You had thanked all the late nights spent pent up in a mansion you had no interest in residing and instead of climbing out of the windows and searching the forest for something to distract you from the emptiness of the house. The forest thought very much dark and looming with shadows that should have scared you, a small child, was the least of your concerns when growing up in one of the most aggressive and the bloodiest mafia in the country. Instead, the forest with it’s chirping sounds and looming figures that would occasionally be illuminated under the white moonlight of the celestial being that you had always thought to be more impressive and beautiful than the sun itself. After all, it was the moon that could be seen at all times during the day, though faint it still held a presence on the earth’s surfaces, and then at night it would illuminate the world and control its tides. 

The first set of yelling startles you out of the memories, the shouts are distant and fuzzy far far away from you. You pick up your gun, the weapon a dead weight at your side, the earpiece is placed in your ear receiving feedback from the multiple calls that are being sent out from the base and into the field. Boots crunch against the gravel floor and you feel a hand almost larger than your shoulder tap you in the back, a look of defiance fills your father’s face as he tells you to get back into the base, “the field is no place for you”, the words aren’t said but you know that he doesn’t mean you, because you are the heir to the mafia or because he actually cares about his only daughter and child. No, he says you, as if a girl weren’t able to do any fieldwork because that isn’t what they were born to do, instead they had to stay inside the safe walls of any base they could scout out to protect under the men’s gaze. A protest rose from your mouth, willing to defy your father’s direct order, the cold fire that illuminated his eyes something you’d seen too often every time you’d sneaked out of your room to find him torturing victims, most of them innocent that ended up coughing in the crossfire. It was a look that should have scared you, and it had for a long long time the way his smile would turn into a humorless and mocking grin, the laugh that escaped his lips seemed to be poisonous as everyone around moved farther away, and you stood the same fire rising in you. 

“But I want to help father” the determination you had was visible by the way you held yourself, hand resting on the weapon at your side, feet shifted slightly apart - a “power pose” they called it in one of the many comic books you’d read about wonder women. You could feel the impatience beginning to roll off your father in waves, first, it was the clenching and unclenching of his fists then it was the slight twitch in his eye that made you want to glare at him, that is until he kneeled just slightly grabbing onto your small wrist enough to leave a bruise. You knew the black and purple would be there tomorrow, branding you as weaker than the man who bore you, from the numerous times it had happened before, and you wouldn’t care didn’t care as long as you could prove how good of a scout you were. Truly, the fear had seemed to leave your mind, replaced by anger and determination being the only thing you saw, “i can tell you right now that there are five guards waiting at the parking lot, two of which are probably newbies, those of which are probably paired up with older members of the group, and the one that remains will probably be the most alert as they left him alone a backup” you voice is clear, as you recite what you already know, what you’ve seen with your eyes only an hour before this whole debacle occurred, and your father looked at you again the grip on your wrist tightening, the cold rings in his hand cooling the touch, crushing your skin, before letting out a scoff. The scoff causes his head to move to the side slightly, balding head tilting and you catch a glimpse of your mother, who’s face is usually warm even under the constant threats your family lives under, is stricken with fear. 

Her fear is directed to you, and herself because you know, a deep part of you knows that the shadows that fill her arms and legs in the early morning when she thinks no one can see her, the pots of foundation that you find in the broken cabinets of the abandoned rooms belong to your mother, and the beating she receives both mental and physical every time a case goes bad. Every time her daughter defies the orders the “grand” master has declared so you back down, eyes lowered, and whimper slightly at the pain that is cruising through your wrist. Your father lets go, content with the submission before ordering more guards around, including your best friend, lee jeno. 

That night you don’t sleep, you toss and turn and you miss the ability to climb out of your window and visit jeno. You know by the way the thud of the door and clang at four in the morning that blood has been shed. You know that jeno hasn’t come back, you know half an hour before everyone else because you’ve seen them take him away. The scream threatens to rip from your throat, tears falling falling, turning silver by the moonlight. It’s 3:30 when you watch them take your best friend away, it’s 3:35 when you can control your breaths. The clock ticks 5 in the morning, when you decide that you aren’t listening to any word your father tells you again because you knew where the boy was set up, you knew how jeno could have been saved if only they’d let you go. If only.  

It’s been seven years since the promise you made yourself to never break is bent. A year has passed since your father passed away, an illness that you recently found out had been in the years making but something he had never bothered to take care of because he thought he was above it. You would have thought your father’s passing would have been the turning point in your life, no longer did you have to fear the violence that would be placed against your mother or yourself. It should have felt like a weight on your shoulder the day his casket was incinerated in the grass fields in front of the manor’s garden. Instead the mafia seemed to break down, it’s collectiveness and faith in each other broke until the only group that remained in what used to be the country's strongest mafia lay in front of you. Their bodies sprawled on the floor like rag dolls, a light stench of metal and blood filled the room, and your hands burn from holding onto the guns for too long the rubber outlets hitting every single time at their proclaimed target. 

“Miss y/n, your mother awaits for you at the entrance hall” the scuffle of feet and light scratch of the door opening catches your attention as a boy only a couple of years younger than you comes through the door and requests a mumble from his lips.

“How many times do i have to tell you jisung” though you smile, you’re tired from the never-ending training sessions you put yourself through, and as much as you put up a cold front, the laughter and mocking from some of the members is exhausting too. The way they snicker and mumble under their breaths “she’s crazy”, and “no wonder jeno left” cause you to just push yourself that much, place that many more bruises and dark black lines across your arms. The tattoos seem at times the only source of power and freedom you are allowed, and you trace the back of your arm, a sense of comfort washes over you, and you speak up again “don’t call me miss. y/n is perfectly fine kid” you ruffle his hair even if he is taller than you, and walk out of the training room, the agents that were on the ground began to shift behind you, grunts and complaints leaving their lips but you’ve already walked out of the room. Out of sigh, out of mind. 

The click and clack of heels on the wooden floor surprise you, and you find your mother dressed in a white suit, black heels still clicking against the marvel floor of the entrance as she paces up and down the stairs, her hair is tied up in a bun, pulling back her face. The sound her heels make are drastically different from the silent almost soundless thumping of your boots against the floor. You weren’t used to seeing your mother in anything but training gear, the black gear and leggings replaced by freshly pressed white suit surprised you to say the least, but you knew something was wrong. More wrong than the daily notifications you would receive from jisung that more members were being recruited or killed off in the streets, for every member that died a new line would be added to the black swirls that decorate your right arm, for every member that left more hours would be spent trying to figure out how to save the corrupt business that was running a mafia. It was sad to say that as much as you hate the way things worked, and the blood and death that it brought to your doorstep you couldn’t deny that you loved scouting, you loved being able to be high up in the trees or buildings where it was just you and the wind noting, counting, looking at the world around you to help. 

“What’s up?” was your way of greeting, steps stopping in front of her, whose mouth twitched slightly into a small smile.

“You know how much i love you,” she started, eyes casted towards the landscape in front of you, if you thought hard enough one could still smell the burning of flesh, from your father’s body, and then the smell of booze and weed that stank the air only hours after his burial. No one was sad that night. 

“What do you need me to do?” you dreaded the response that was to come out of her lips, but her eyes focused on you and you could see how tired she was. Mother who was always bright and full of energy, her hair was close to being purely white, ebony almost, and the dark circles under her eyes made you want to demand she get some rest but you knew even as hard as she tried there was no way to escape the horrors of the mind. 

“I need you to infiltrate a base camp” at seeing your nod, she continued, infiltration was nothing you haven't done before, “now before you refute anything I say, this might be the only way to get us out of this shitshow so please bear with me darling” another nod, and you could almost see the breathe leave her body, shoulders becoming slightly more curved, as the anxiety begins to diffuse. 

“What camp? I mean we have almost all of them figured out, even without low numbers i’ve scoured most of them and jisung said he had checked on the one’s downtown” 

“That’s the thing darling, it isn’t exactly a home base. It’s a training center of sorts, but the Lee’s are running it. One of the heir’s is supposed to be taking part in the camp, so I need you to infiltrate without anyone noticing what group you belong to, it shouldn’t be that hard no one’s seen you since the attack seven years ago, and you’ve grown. See how they're getting our recruiters and try to get them back”  her hand at one point has come to hold onto yours, her big rings that she had taught herself how to make adorning almost every finger, it was a comfort the squeeze of her hand on your calloused and scarred one. 

“When do i head out?” The question leaves your lips slightly harsher than you’d wanted to, because in no world would you have ever wanted to go hang out with anyone from the lee family, but you knew as it had been drilled into your brain, for as long as you could remember that family is above all others. And you normally would have disagreed, because blood families shouldn’t define who one is willing to risk their life for but your mom looks at you again before letting go of your hand.

“Tonight” she is no longer looking at you, and you aren;t surprised because you can almost feel a sort of resentment towards the time, that only gave you a couple of hours to get ready and say goodbye to the only remaining friend you had here, well at least you told yourself jisung was a friend, after all he helped you bandage up your cuts and would keep you company into the late nights his soft smile always there, a shoulder to rely on. You manage to murmur a “fine”, and right as you're about to head back into the manor, mind running on what to pack and prepare you hear the light voice of your mother, “and y/n. For the love of god, do not fall in love”. The remark made you stop for a slight second because who would you fall for, the patriarchal society and male’s ego’s where too high to get close enough to care, and you truly didn’t care for romance. 

Bright spots in the sky, constellations that spread across the sky like a blanket keep you from falling asleep in the black car. Everytime you look at a constellation you name it, leo - the lion -, followed by the big dipper and small dipper always next to each other, always close. Time passes by, and your eyelids become too heavy to not keep open, until the spots in the sky are no longer there and instead darkness washes over you. 

It’s the smell of black coffee that wakes you up, where you find yourself half naked and disarmed under scratchy sheets and a bed that creaks every time you move. It takes you a second to gaze up the room around you, finding every exit possible and anything that might serve as a weapon, there’s only one exit and the most dangerous thing in the room seems to be the mug in front of you, steam rising from it the lettering of “LEE’S WEATHER CHANNEL” imprinted on it. The scowl on your face causes the boy in front of you to chuckle, a boy who is also half naked, it takes everything in you to not take in the firm muscles in the boy’s chest until you look up into his face, blonde almost white hair hanging slightly. 

“Well good morning to you sleeping beauty” his voice is gentler than what you expected, and he stands up from the brown chair, hand wrapping around the coffee mug as he hands it to you which you refuse, arm coming out of the sheets revealing your tattooed arm to refuse the cup of caffeine that instead of giving you energy would only leave a bitter and awful taste in your mouth. 

“Yeah, no thanks that tastes like shit” you murmur, and the boy in front of you laughs, causing the muscles in his arms and chest to flex slightly, and his eyes to become small almost like small moons. Fuck why does he have to be cute, you scold yourself before pushing yourself of the bed. It isn’t like you weren’t used to being around those of the male species in a sports bra and shorts, just like a normal training day just like a normal training day. But you do spot a pair of leggings and muscle tee by the corner of your bed that you change into, the boy with almost white hair still inside the small cot with you, though when you are done pulling the shirt over your head the boy is also wearing the same shirt with the words “training co.” printed behind him. 

“Jaemin” the noise startles you slightly, until you realize the voice belongs to the boy who is holding his hand out, as if in greeting to which you just nod too and walk out the small door, your name leaving your lips right as the door closes. Jeno can’t stop the smile that spreads on his lips, as he walks out of the cot that he’s too familiar with. The best friend he thought he’d lost back in his life even if you hadn't recognized him, his smile falters slightly at having to lie to you about who he was but is forget quickie as he leaves the room. In the short span of five seconds he’s caught up with you, an hand placed on the lower of your back which causes you to squirm, before turning around and twisting his hands around. 

“What the fuck” the words slips from jeno’s mouth, his arm in your hand and you loosen your grip on it, the twist to disarm an opponent, a subconscious action from distrust and too many times being led on by men who think they’re in control. “What were you doing?” you snap back, and though you’ve released his hand you keep your distance, to which he responds by putting his hands up in a sort of defeat, “umm you asked me too? Well didn;t deliberately ask me to, but before you passed out on my bed yesterday after, i really don’t know what you were doing, you told me to tour you around the camp, hence what am doing” his voice is teasing, and the words shock you but don’t surprise you, you might have been a little tipsy before you left the van, a last fuck you to the world before being imprisoned in this hellhole. 

“Hmmm, fine”

“Fine? No thank you? Or oh, yeah am sorry?”

“Do you want to get hit” your answer isn’t much of a question but more of a demand and jeno shrugs, “no ma’am” and you can’t help but stop the smile that slips from your lips by his response. 

Jeno does as he says and walks you around camp, and it isn’t until the two of you are paired together to spar names written down on chalkboards that you almost have a heart attack. Because the boy who’s made you laugh during the blazing hot sun, and given you small piggy back rides as a punishment for losing in a game of rock paper scissors which you can’t recall what for, and it isn’t until you see the small moon tattoo on the base of his wrist, that the realization rushes through your body. Because in front of you isn’t na jaemin the boy who you were supposed to look out for. Instead the blonde haired boy, with eyes like the moon and voice that you thought you would recognize anywhere is in front of you, your childhood best friend, who no longer has brown hair but white locks.  Jeno stands before you, eyes smiling words as charming as ever, and you know you’ve been taught better. You know that this is exactly why you trained so hard, why you wasted so many nights scouting the woods and having the bruises bloom so when you did face him you would feel nothing. But no one can stop human emotions from getting in the way of a mission, an infiltration in which you have lee jeno wrapped around your finger, but anger not sadness, anger pushes you forward as you slap lee jeno. The crack echoing around camp, and jeno doesn’t back down. 

“The fuck?”

“The fuck jeno?” the fuck?” your voice almost breaks, but you manage to spit the words out because in front of you stands the boy who broke your heart and in the span of a day managed to begin to repair it again. The second his name escapes your lips, Jeno's face comes into realization, and he holds onto your arms, he’d always be stronger than you even as you struggle against his grip, tears threatening to spill. You are aware of the eyes that are on you, aware that this could jeopardize everything you’ve worked for, the gun in your waist holster feels more like a dragged weight than ever. But a look from jeno and the eyes have scattered leaving the two of you alone in the dipping sun, the red rays igniting flames in the lake behind jeno, “why?”

“Why? Why did i leave? Why did i not come find you? Why did i leave my heart with the girl who held it? Why what?”

“Why did you lie?” you seethe, the confession not being processed through your clouded thoughts, too much too much.

“Because darlin, you said so, didn’t you?” the words are smooth and slightly broken, they make you want to scream and hit him again and again, pushing away the pain. Because the memory was hidden, hidden so deep in the pain and anger that you’d forgotten that you had begged jeno to leave the corrupted world you lived in, begged him and asked him to leave you with your father because jeno would be next to be killed.  

“I… I…” you can’t seem to form the words but it doesn’t matter because jeno seems to now, like he always does. His hair falls and grazes your forehead when he hugs you closer, and for some reason that you can’t point out it keeps your fallen pieces, the broken ones and those that were glued together by black lines. And you let him comfort you, you let him hold you in the middle of a grassfield, as the sun dips down the red that flares in the forest turns ruby almost like blood, like the way the blood feels warm on your hands, the salt and metal tang of blood fills your mouth, as a sob escapes your lips and then jeno’s. And you hold him, his head cradled between your hands as you repeat over and over how much you love him and how sorry you are.

The gunshot rings in the air, metal mixing with blood, warmth seeping into your clothes and mixing with the sweat from your hands that continue to cradle the boy you love in your hands. The life slowly dies out, fluttering slightly, dark brown shutting close. Because as much as you love jeno, more than life itself, you’ve been taught family over everything, even if that means feeling yourself crumble underneath him. Quite sobs wrecking through your body, as you whisper the same words over and over. 

The sun is no longer there, the ruby red of blood no longer coloring the forest red and your bodies in orange and yellow sunlight. For when the field council comes out, they find two lovers lying down next to each other, a silver bullet between them both, ruby red lips pressed against each other in a final goodbye. 

masterlist requested from this prompt list

mymy my queen I'm sorry. pls don’t hurt me. 

[chocoships]

swap chase freaking out bc Anti disappears and he goes looking for him but finds out that he just fell asleep from exhaustion, then we get sweet fluffy cuddling action!!

[oooh boy this took way longer than expected. Sorry about that! I kinda had to strap myself in front of my computer today so I wouldn’t drift off to animal crossing again. I hope this is good enough to compensate for the wait!]

Chase was starting to get worried.

He was aware that he was probably just overthinking the situation again, Anti was just in his recording room like usual, it wasn’t anything to worry about. Sure, he’d been holed up in here for hours now but considering the recent circumstances it was understandable.

Anti had been plagued by a sudden increase of technical difficulties lately. It was frustrating, yes, but nothing that he couldn’t deal with. He could manage it well enough at first but it seemed like every issues, no matter how many times he tried to fix them, just kept piling on each others until it eventually all came crashing down. The culminating result of this frustrating event had been the loss of almost a week worth of work. The only silver lining in all of this was that most of it could still be salvaged, but it would undeniably take a lot of time to bring everything back to normal. Chase had tried his best to help Anti, but other than calming him down and supporting him there wasn’t much that the glitch could actually do. He would have offered to help him, perhaps ease most of sudden workload off his already exhausted partner, but it was quickly proven that having an actual living glitch near his computer simply added more to the whole mess. Anti was incredibly busy and the most that Chase could do right now was to leave him alone to work in peace.  

It should have been easy enough, right? Surely, the cold and fearsome glitch was able to leave his partner alone for most of the day?

Apparently not.

By the five hour mark, Chase was pacing back and forth in the hallway, muttering to himself.

“Relax, relax, you’re worrying over nothing. Anti’s fine, he’s just busy, he’s-” His eyes kept flickering toward the closed door in front of him. He hadn’t heard anything coming from the other side in a while, it was normal knowing that the room was mostly soundproof, but that simple explanation did nothing to ease the worries of the glitch. He didn’t know why he was so easily concerned about the well being of Anti, he was a grown man capable of handling himself just fine… most of the time at least. Alright, maybe his boyfriend wasn’t the best at taking care of himself sometimes, but if there was one thing he excelled at it was being left alone for long periods of time. It should have reassured him, but Chase had never really been able to shake off the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that always urged him to take care of Anti.

God, he’d really fallen hard for him, didn’t he?

He knew that at some point the urge to check up on Anti would be too strong to ignore, eventually he’d open that door. So… if it was indeed inevitable then taking a small peek in the room shouldn’t be a big deal. Yeah? He’d just be in and out, fast and easy, no need to interrupt Anti in his process to catch up back to schedule. Well, maybe he could also steal a quick kiss at the same time too. Just a small peck to satiate the need to smother the other in affection.

Alright, it was decided then. With a quick nod to himself, Chase took hold of the knob and slightly nudged the door open. 

“Anti? Is everything doing ok-” The glitch froze before he even had the chance to finish his sentence.

Anti was laying face down on his desk, unmoving.

In less than the blink of a second, Chase was at his side.

The glitch had seen this particular sight many time before now, but panic still rose in him for a short moment. His first reflex was to check on his partner’s breathing. A sigh of relief left him as he watched Anti’s chest slowly rise and fall.

He’s fine, he just fell asleep mid editing. There’s nothing to worry about. 

Chase was sure that if he had an actual heart it would still be hammering against his rib cage at this exact moment. Still, a false moment of panic was still better than a real one. A small smile formed on the face of the glitch as he watched the peaceful expression on his boyfriend’s sleeping face, but it slightly faltered when he noticed the deep bags under his eyes. Poor Anti, he never had the most healthy sleep schedule to begin with. All the additional stress and rush certainly didn’t help either, the exhaustion must have crashed into him if he blacked out at his desk like this.

Maybe Chase’s earlier worries had not for nothing after all. Goddammit, he should have acted on it sooner. It would have at least saved Anti the discomfort of falling asleep like that. As adorable as he was like this, this position couldn’t possibly be good for his back and Chase couldn’t simply leave him like this.

Without any hesitation, the glitch took Anti into his arms. The man didn’t even stir as he was carefully maneuvered into a bridal position, his body simply laid limp in the gentle hold. This moment could easily be seen as endearing if it hadn’t been for the circumstances that led to it.

With Anti securely in his arms, Chase started walking back toward the door, but as he entered the threshold of it the glitch stopped and turned his head toward Anti’s computer. He glared at the screen and in mere seconds it sprung to life. Chase didn’t bother to stay any longer as the electronic instantly powered itself back from sleep mode, the screen flashed frantically between myriads of opened tabs and scattered files of half edited projects just as the glitch left the room. There, that should save Anti the strain of panicking over if he saved his work or not once he woke up.

 It didn’t take long for Chase to reach the bedroom, but as he gently laid down the unconscious form of Anti atop the cover of their bed, one of his hand slightly tightened around his wrist.

The grasp was incredibly weak, could it really be called a grasp if there wasn’t any force behind it? It was more just resting on Chase’s arms than anything else. He could have easily slipped away from it, even glitch away, and let Anti’s hand fall back on the bed. There was nothing truly holding him back but the longer Chase watched the peaceful expression of his partner, the more his resolve crumbled away. 

It was highly probable that Chase was simply searching for any reasons to stay alongside Anti as he slumbered on, and this coincidence was the only thing he needed before making his decision.

A faint grunt escaped Anti as the mattress beneath him slightly moved next to him but it was quickly followed by a contented sigh when familiar arms found their way around his waist. Chase’s chest was pressed flush against his back, the comfortable pressure of his embrace was more than welcome. Anti practically melted into Chase’s hold, he didn’t even stir as the glitch buried his face into the crook of his neck. Leaving one small kiss before settling down into the cozy position.

As an inhuman entity, Chase might have no need for sleep but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t let himself drift off alongside his darling. Knowing fully that they were safe and loved.

[booklovingturtle]

Kanej and the starry night

I have been binge-watching the last season of Jane the Virgin and one of the episodes inspired this fic. It’s long and fluffy and I loved writing Kanej but I don’t know if its any goo bc its late and I’m exausted so forgive the spur of the moment writing.

Kaz takes Inej back to his village under the guise of a job to complete. One night, he pulls her out of her room to enjoy the night sky and confess his feelings for her.

Inej Ghafa, ship wrecker had only returned to the Barrel for twelve hours before Kaz Brekker had a note delivered to her room. In it, he had laid out vague details about some job that he needed her help in.  It was a two days journey from the city. Ineexhaustedted from her time at sea was both nervous and hopeful to spend some time alone with Kaz. Her nervous were quickly replaced by disappointment.

The whole trip Kaz had been impossibly hard to read. It was like they were strangers in a way Inej had never experienced with him. He kept a cold distance between them until they reached an inn located right outside of Lij. By the time they arrived, she still had no idea what the job was. She didn’t even care anymore. Inej crashed into her bed after bathing the dirt from traveling off and was immediately asleep.

That is, until she heard knocking at her door. The Wraith was up and strapping her knives along her body quickly. She moved to answer the door. To her surprise, Kaz stood in the corridor of the inn, looking rather uncomfortable to have woken her up.

“Were you asleep?”

“Yes,” Inej crossed her arms.

“I’m sorry. I-never mind,” he shook his head. Kaz had a heavy quilt in thrown over his arm and was leaning on his cane. Inej was shocked to see embarrassment behind the twitch of his jaw. She was even more astonished when she realized that Kaz had left his gloves in his room. 

He saw her notice his bare hands. She didn’t want to push him or make him uncomfortable so she ignored it.

“It’s okay. What do you need?” 

Kaz blinked, the only real sign of any level of self consciousness that he would allow. “I want to show you something.”

A flare of confusion filled her but Inej decided it would be better to see where the night would take her before pointing out Kaz’s strange behavior over the last few days.

Dirtyhands carried the neatly folded blanket out of the inn they were staying in. Kaz silently walked away from the small structure and into the forest. Her annoyance was about to overcome her curiosity just as they cleared the expanse of trees to find an empty field laid before her. Her mind cleared and a gasp escaped her.

Stars decorated every inch of her line of sight. Constellations that she had never seen before, even while traveling the continent as a child twinked their hypnotizing dance.

Kaz’s deep chuckle came from beside her as he took a few more steps forward to lay out the blanket.

“This was my home,” He said as a way of explaining. 

Inej knew immediately what he had meant. She was able to read him better than anyone, just as he was able to read her. They never needed to say much to each other in order to be understood. It was one of her favorite things about being around Kaz. Both then and now. 

Just like that, she forgave all the strangeness from before. Kaz was allowing her to see a part of him that he hadn’t shown anyone else. 

She followed his head and sat down on the blanket. Soon their sitting position turned into them laying side by side, backs pressed against the ground and shoulders a breath away from touching. Inej inhaled deeply, loving the feel of fresh dew under her fingertips. 

Inej couldn’t help but wonder how it was possible for the same, tiny stretch of land could be so different. Kerch wasn’t a large island, but somehow it held many, many worlds within it. There was the infamous and dangerous city of Ketterdam whose only god was greed. It was the part of Kerch that Inej Ghafa was most familiar with. For years, it was the only part she had visited. Though she was slowly starting to realize that there was much more this island.

There was an entirely different world that surrounded the lived and breathed just south of the blusterous Fifth Harbor. That world was covered in lush, green fields instead of filthy cobble. Vibrant wildflowers perfumed the air to clean all of the noxious smell of the Barrel out of her lungs. Even the sky that looked over the island seemed to smile at the innocence it found within the small villages that bordered Lij. Wildlife, crackling fires, and far away chatter were carried by a soft breeze.

There was a stillness about the almost-morning that could only be described as true peace. It was even more calming than the gentle rocking of her ship at sea.

“I’ve been to small villages before,” Inej rarely spoke harshly but even the usual reserved measure of her words was stripped away by the night sky. “This is nothing like the those. I’ve never seen the sky look like this.”

“It was my favorite part of growing up here. I wanted to show it to you before the sun rose.”

It felt like they were standing at the edge of a cliff. She couldn’t see the bottom but Inej wanted to leap across to the other side.

“Do you miss it here?”

“Not really. Not the way that you miss home. My family is gone. I have no one left here.”

She couldn’t really argue that point. Inej missed home every day. But home was never a place for her. It was her family. Kaz didn’t have that here. She couldn’t expect him to feel the same way she did about Ravka.

“There’s an old tale that the adults used to tell the children where I’m from.” She was surprised that he had offered her this piece of his past without her even asking. “It isn’t full of sage wisdom that Suli parables have but it's still a common story.”

Inej’s attention shifted from the sky to Kaz. He wasn’t wearing a perfectly pressed suit like she was used to. He’d changed into a light undershirt that allowed her to see the planes of his body. An arm was pillowing his head and his eyes were closed. It was a sign of vulnerability that she knew he didn’t show to everyone. It was rare the Dirtyhands ever felt so at ease with someone that he didn’t need to watch their every move for a threat. 

“Jerven Voorhent was a swordsmith.”

“Jer ven voorhent,” Inej repeated the Kerch words. You are integrity. She had learned the language years ago so their harsh consonants rolled off her tongue easily.

He nodded, eyes still closed. Kaz continued the story, “One of the best. Any blade forged by his fires would strike true. People from all the way from the Wandering Isles to Ahmrat Jen would travel to his doorstep and beg for him to craft them a weapon. Rulers begged him to become their personal weapons maker. Men crawled on their knees to become his apprentice. Jervan heard none of it. He continued to make his swords because he loved it. He didn’t even try to sell them. He just enjoyed the craft.”

“Ghezen must have been furious,” she noted. “All that lost profit.” Inej studied the sharp cut of his jaw while he spoke.

“One day a markswoman came to visit Jerven. She had heard that he was the best swordsmith to ever live and wanted to see if he could make her a bow as fine as any sword he ever made. Jerven, struck by her beauty, agreed. The woman, Almhente, taught him all she knew about the bow and he got to work. Jerven worked day and night.”

The woman’s name was almost identical to the Kerch word for prosperity, almhent, Inej thought to herself. She realized before Kaz could finish the story how it would end.

“Almhente test bow after bow that he made but none of them were right. Jerven, eager to impress her, continued to try. He stopped eating and sleeping to spend more time on her bow. His sword making fires died. The line at his door walked away. Jerven lost everything but didn’t see it because all he wanted to do was make the markswoman her bow.”

“But he never got it right, did he?”

He shook his head. “No. Jerven died working on her weapon. People forgot all of his great swords and only remembered him by his collection of failed bows.”

Inej understood the moral the tale. Jerven stood for integrity. He was a man who worked for himself until the chance of earning prosperity came along. He was blinded by his desires to prosper and eventually lost his life to it.

“That is an odd story to tell children being raised on an island whose patron is Ghezen,” she was struck by the message of the story. It was so unlike both the island of its origin and the storyteller to support a theme against profit.

Kaz shrugged. “Maybe. My parents were farmers. All of the people from my home worked the land so others could make the profit. I think a part of them was always jealous of that.”

 He finally opened his eyes. Suddenly Inej was swimming in the darkness of his gaze. The moonlight painted his pale skin almost silver but it made the darkness of his hair and eyes stand out even more.

He was close enough that she could feel his breath tickle hear cheeks when he spoke. She loved the way his voice sounded so close to her. “Why tell me this now?”

“Kaz Rietveld never understood. Then, I was Dirtyhands, I lived for profits and money and greed.”

Warmth filled her at what he was implying. Still, Inej wanted him without gloves which meant he had to specific about what he was trying to tell her.

“And now?” she prompted.

Kaz cleared his throat, looking away for a moment. She realized he was looking at their hands, laying next to each other. He looked back up at her, a question in his eyes. Inej hooked her pinky around his. He didn’t stop there. Kaz’s fingers wrapped around hers, thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.

Inej’s whole body felt the touch of his skin. Her fingers curled and her heart sword. Every part of her focused on the way he played with her hand, tracing the lines of her skin. Goosebumps danced up her arms. 

“Kaz...” she interrupted his reverent touch. It killed Inej to do it but she needed to know for sure what he wanted. “Why did you bring us here? Is there even a job to complete? What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to be like Jerven. I don’t want to die chasing prosperity.” 

Her breathing stopped. When it started again, Inej noticed that it seemed like no air was filling her lungs because all she breath in was Kaz and the fresh earth surrounding them.

“What do you want?”

“You.” His hand stilled in hers. Kaz was giving her the chance to pull away. To deny him. 

Inej would never say no to him. Not after all they had been through together. Not after the way he touched her hand, as if it was the most delicate thing in the world. Even the way he spoke to her spoke of an emotion she was still too afraid to say out loud.

“I want you, Inej. If you still want me.”

Her heart soared out of her chest. "Yes, Kaz. Yes, I still want you. I always have, I always will.”

Relief filled him and she saw his muscles loosen. “Can I hold you?”

She smiled widely and curled her body into his. Kaz wrapped an arm around her, face digging into her hair. She sighed, thanking all her saints for this small gesture. No nightmares, no anxieties, no terrors from her past could hurt her in that instant. Not as long as it was Kaz’s voice in her ear and his warmth against her.

“I’m so glad you said yes because I’m pretty sure Jesper is tired of hugging me.”

She laughed so hard that she had to pull away from him. “Are you saying that you’ve been practicing how to cuddle with Jesper?”

Kaz’s smile was more beautiful than the whole night sky. “No, but I had to practice touching someone while you were away. I wanted to make sure that I could do this,” he laced their fingers together again, “right this time.”

“Kaz, even if you had pulled away or still had to wear your gloves, it would be right. As long as its with you, it could never be wrong.” 

“I know but I but I wanted to be able to touch you while telling you how I felt without feeling the water.”

I don’t care how long it takes us to be able to touch one another. We will get there in out own time and we will get there together,” she held him close to her again.

“Together,” he repeated to her.

[jjkfire]

update 4/27/21:

I'm working at a startup so it's extremely busy. but I love my job! i am trying to find the time to fit writing in my schedule tho. gonna figure it out someday lol. my stories are not abandoned, don't worry. all the endings and plot points have been planned. i'm just struggling to find the time to write atm. still very grateful for all the kind words and support you guys have given me over the years. hope all of you are out there living your best lives, exploring, learning, and finding joy in all the little things 😊 join my tag list (read the instructions pls) to get notified when I update my fics!

//

previous big update:

hello! i know i’ve been sort of mia but… it’s been an absolutely chaotic time for me. 

the (long) story goes a little something like this:

earlier this year during spring break, i had friends who convinced me to give america a shot and apply for jobs after grad. i really didn’t want to because the visa process is a pain and it costs a lot. also, not a lot of companies want to hire internationals so it’s very demoralizing to receive a million rejections… but my friends are very persuasive people lol. 

so it was super hectic during the last few months I had in the country as i tried to get through the visa process, study, work, beef up my resume, apply for jobs and graduate at the same time. (i understand that a ton of people have to do this too… but it’s hard y’all). anyway, one Medium article, one cold email, and a number of grueling interviews later, i found out i got a job!

now i just had to convince my parents… this was actually in all honesty, the most stressful part. i love them to death but my father really made it feel like i was choosing between my family and a job and ngl i cried myself to sleep on the regular. in the end, he finally gave me the okay to take the job but i know he’s still very upset. that’s honest to god the worst part. (my mum’s been super supportive tho so i guess that’s the silver lining in all of this!)

prior to getting the job though, I was really in limbo. I had returned to my home country because I and by extension, my parents, were not confident that i was going to be able to land a job in the US. I was very confused because I was neither here nor there. I was interviewing with the american company from my home country, trying my best to make sure they’d still be interested in me as a candidate no matter how many hurdles there were. then, to ensure that I had a safety net, I was also doing interviews locally and sending out resumes whenever I could. I was exhausted. and I know everyone goes through the job hunt so it’s equally as exhausting for everyone but yeah it was not a fun time.

anyway so now that I took that job in america i gotta move halfway across the world again, but this time without financial support and i don’t know… maybe this is the first time i’ll be truly independent and ya im seconds away from shittin myself. really gotta put on my big girl pants and try to not be broke yeet yeet.

but uhh that’s the low down on why i haven’t been able to write much at all…….. and yeah! working on it tho… haha always working on it.

to end all of this, I just want to say that I’m super lucky to have all of you. I basically got the job because of that article I wrote. I know I sound like a broken record talking about my article over and over but I dunno I guess all of this is just a little wild to me ahah.

I owe a lot of my confidence in my writing to all of you. I personally think my writing improved bc of this blog and the support you guys give me is… unreal (“: I know it may seem insignificant to some of you to reblog/like and comment on a fic but it really spurs me creatively and makes me feel sort of confident about my writing. all of that is probably why I didn’t think twice about hitting that post button on my article. although it’s a very different type of writing… I don’t know it’s just knowing that my writing is worth something… knowing that my writing is worth taking 5 minutes out of your day to read, is pretty cool and you guys kind of gave me that! (i am in no way saying that my writing is the best thing on earth. far from it. but i think you guys understand what i’m trying to say!)

so in some way, you guys helped me get a job! nice work team hahahah. also, also i just want to say, never give up. I decided I wanted to try my luck at the American job market maybe around the end of March and graduation was in early May. so I had about more or less a month to do something. I knew I needed a way to set myself apart from everyone else because my gpa wasn’t stellar and I hadn’t had any internships in America. not to mention the fact that I was an international student hence it was even harder to get hired. so basically, why would a company pick me over the next person? I thought perhaps knowing how to code was the way to give myself an edge so I learned some basic python and sql but then I realized there wasn’t really an impressive project I could attempt within that short time frame and I also knew far too little to do anything anyway. this meant that I was back at square one.

so, I switched gears instead. I sat down and really thought about what I could do. I concluded that at the very least, I could write. I knew I could write so I needed something that I could use along with my writing and I was like… it’s gotta be data! knowing that, I picked up the basics on how to use Tableau and I also picked up VBA macros in excel (if you don’t know what this is… I think you should Google it. it will literally blow your mind. excel can do a lot more than you can imagine). Then, I picked what I wanted to write my article on, got the data I needed from google trends, used vba macros to make the calculations faster, used tableau to make charts based on the data and photoshop to spice up the charts and etc. I did my research in the meantime as well and had a rough plan on what I was going to write about. after this, it was all systems go and it went a little like this:

wrote the article. attached my charts. linked the links. hit that post button. applied to all the jobs & companies that I thought would see value in what I did and can do. got rejected many times. felt discouraged. did more searching on companies that were willing to hire internationals. decided to send a cold email to a company. ACTUALLY HEARD BACK. went through multiple interviews. ACTUALLY GOT THE JOB.

so guys, never give up. recognize your strengths and build around that. if you think you don’t have any strengths, look harder. if you still feel you don’t have any, make the effort to learn something. it’s never too late for anything. I did all of that in one month and 10 days (the learning stuff and writing the article thing I mean). always be open to learning. I say this so much irl that my friends are sick of it but in this day and age with the internet, you can literally learn anything. so please, learn. learn for fun, learn for whatever reason. learn anything. you’ll never know when it’ll come in handy. like my basic Photoshop that I learned just so I could make a header for my blog… literally used that skill for the graphics in my article lol.

anyway, you can achieve a lot more than you think you can. you just gotta throw caution to the wind and do your own thing. be determined, be proactive. if things aren’t going the way you think it should be, do something to change that. you are all amazing and capable of great things! I hope you all know that. my mum always said if you never try, you’ll never know. don’t be afraid, don’t stop to think about what other people will think of you. keep doing you. people doubt you enough so don’t add to that. keep your head held high and keep moving forward.

once again I want to thank you guys for being sort of a support system for me! every comment, nice ask and sweet message has brought me this far. i really mean it (’: always be nice and supportive my sweet dumplings. your words truly have impact!

[sweetpea-skarsgard-blog]

You’ve Just Crossed The Line pt. 3 // Sweet Pea Imagine

(Request:  @southsideslutt oh yes so an imagine where y/n gets held for ransom by the ghoulies and sweet pea is freaking out bc that’s his girl and the serpents help calm him down by going on a rescue mission for her and there’s a whole lotta angst and fluff at the end :’’))

(( as promised here is the fluff! I hope that it was seceptible to give you all toothaches. Just dont send me your dentist bills. <3 Request more imagines if you’d like! i do a bunch of different fandoms, and characters ))

Warnings: none really.. mention of violence, mention of bugs.

Part 1 // Part 2

Feeling Sweet Pea’s arms wrapped around you on that warm night,  as the rain pattered over the tarp keeping the two of you sheltered; Well, it was one of the most comforting feelings in the world. Sure, since the attack, your overprotective boyfriend hadn’t exactly let you go back to your house without a posse of at least five people accompanying you- but that was a precaution that you would have to deal with, given the fact that he was even letting you step back onto that side of town at all. It was clear that your kidnapping had a profound effect on the both of you, making sweet Pea only want to hold you tighter and never let go.. While you couldn't help but be fearful anytime you were left alone for too long.

It was normal wasn’t it? To experience such an anxiety after a trauma like the one you had faced. You were sure that some fancy Northside doctor would have diagnosed you with PTSD, and tried to shove pills down your throat to make the pain and fear go away.. But then again, being from the Southside- it wasn't like you could go to that length- having only a few dollars in your pockets at any given moments.. And absolutely no savings whatsoever in the event of a true emergency.

No… Sweet Pea was the only treament for your nerves that you needed at the moment, his strong arms and the calming and musky scent of his cologne filling your nostrils as he embraced you. The man was content as well, just leaning his face down to press soft kisses over your forehead and the top of your hair, making you feel loved. It seemed to be a rare moment to anyone that caught a glimpse of the aggressive Serpent in such a docile state, cuddling and loving on someone that could actually make him soft. But that was just the affect that you had on the male.

After what had happened, seeing the pure rage and anger on his face while he pummeled those Ghoulies- you knew that it all came from a place of worry. Sure the man was not opposed to cracking a few skulls every now and then, but the way he effortlessly fought off four guys at once- that was a product of love. You knew from experience that Sweet Pea was loyal to a fault, but even as he was faced with uncertainty and many more foes than he could normally handle.. He had done it all to protect you, and pushed himself past his limits.

“You’re as Sweet as they come, aren’t you, Pea?” you asked quietly, tracing your fingertips over the dogtags that were hanging from his neck. Something that you found yourself doing often in such tender moments. Sweet Pea on the other hand inwardly cringed at your little play on words, rolling his eyes, though he did let out a breath that seemed to resemble the ghost of a laugh.

“Yeah, and you’re a fucking dork, Y/N. If we are stating the obvious.. Besides.. You know that I’m pretty much only sweet on you. Ask Toni, Fangs, or Jones.. I’m pretty sure that they would all agree that I am consistently an asshole at any given time, to everyone except you.” he grunted, watching your fingertips as they moved across the somewhat tarnished silver metal. You were so mesmerised by the little things that he kept as a constant in his life, the dogtags, his rings, jacket.. And that hairdo that you swore took more pomade than you figured he or Fangs could ever afford. It was an enigma to you, but at the same time, you would never change a thing about him. One other constant in his life that he was growing to need more and more on a daily basis- was you.

“I am a fucking dork, but you love me anyways.. I mean why else would you have come to my rescue- like some knight in shining… leather jacket?” you teased, looking over to his Serpent skin that was hanging from one of the folding chairs in the corner of his tent. Luckily the canvas fabric had not sprung any leaks lately.. So the two of you were dry as bones.. Though it definitely didn't help the cold situation. It was almost always cold at night in Riverdale, even in the summers.

That was one of the reasons that Sweet Pea was thankful for your presence, he never got too cold when he had you around, able to wrap you in his arms and savor your warmth in his oversized sleeping bag, as you did the same with him. Before, in his trailer, Sweet Pea never seemed to wear more than a pair of sweatpants to bed… but now seeing him curled up in a long sleeved shirt, all cozied up- you were thankful for it, even at the loss of skin on skin contact.

Sweet Pea then moved his hands from your waist, one trailing down to your ass and kneading at the skin gently, before the other moved up towards your hair. He loved the feel of it, so silky beneath his fingertips.. However, the  thought that he might have lost you forever was still lingering on the back of his mind, torturing him

Feeling his body tense up, you ripped your eyes away from the cool metal, looking up at him, and pressing a palm against his cheek as he seemed troubled by something. You’d had an idea of what this could all be about. But knowing Sweet Pea, it was going to be a little bit of a battle to get the truth to come out of him. “Baby.. what are you thinking about?” you asked, biting at your lip gently, as his dark brown eyes trailed over your features. The hand that was playing with your hair, moved down to your cheek, tracing the place where that bruise from the bitch Bonnibel seemed to have faded away over time. You closed your eyes at the contact, and nuzzled your face into his hand.

Sweet Pea’s breath hitched, as he felt that he was making his thoughts too obvious, clearing his throat and looking away for a minute. “Nothin.. I mean.. I’m just glad you’re fine.” he nodded, seeming to take a step back from the situation so as not to relive everything that had happened. Of course he was glad that it was over- but at the same time.. He was angry at himself that they hadn't made that Ghoulie bitch pay for what she had done to you. Sure, they had ruined an entire shipment of Jingle Jangle with their little rouse- but that wasn't enough to warrant this war being over- nor the pain that you had gone through. Sweet Pea’s eyes flickered over to your Serpent skin, littered with hoes from various darks and even knives having been flung at the leather while it hung on the wall of the Wyrm.

What if that had been you that they had taken their target practice on- what if you were hurt merely for being a Serpent.. A part of a family yes- but at the same time, something that he could never fully protect you from. Of course Sweet Pea knew that you were capable of holding your own- when it wasn’t and uneven match like it was that night.. But as your boyfriend, he couldn't help but feel like it was his duty to make sure you were safe.

As he had his train of thought, you sighed and caressed over his cheek, seeming to be able to read his mind as he looked at your jacket, damaged and in need of serious repairs. But Brydie was a little out of it these days, and as the Serpent’s resident seamstress, it fell to Toni and Cheryl who were also being driven crazy with keeping up the living standards for the gang. But you knew you needed to comfort Sweet Pea.. reassure him... just the way that he had been doing for you for the past week.

“Sweets I am fine.. I am going to be fine. Sure things were shady for a while- but now that I am here with you, the Serpents.. I’m gonna be okay. That bitch Bonnibel is going to get what is coming to her .. I promise. But that is for me and the girls to do- girl on girl crim is something that needs to be solved by girls.” you laughed, knowing that were Sweet Pea not the slightest bit gentlemanly, he would have socked the girl in the face. But Toni had a plan- and while it was a little devious, you were all for it.

“Tomorrow Cheryl, Toni, and I are going to sneak over to Sunnyside and leave her a little present.. Some pregnant hissing cockroaches should do.” you smirked, crossing your arms, as Sweet Pea looked down at you with an eyebrow arched.

“That’s your idea of payback? Man I can't believe that I’m so crazy for a softy.” he chuckled, though he knew that it would be your decision ultimately how you wanted to take your revenge.. “You should add a rotten fish to her air conditioner for good measure.” he smirked, pulling you over top of him so that you were now straddling his lap, and looking down at him. Your hair fell down the sides of your face, making him reach up and brush parts of it behind your ears- just so he could get a better view of that pretty face. “That should be enough to make the bitch suffer.. “ his low voice gently met your ears, sending a shiver down your spine, as you pressed your palms flat against his chest.

With a swift move, Sweet Pea pulled you back down, so that his fingertips were interlaced in your hair, as his lips moved against your own, memorizing every shape your mouth made against his own as he passionately kissed you. He had never been in love before he met you.. But feeling you now, hand against his heart, while his fingertips massaged at your scalp as you moaned at his touch- he knew.. Anyone who ever crossed that line again and tried to take you away from him- well they were gonna get a hell of a rude awakening.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.” Sweet Pea murmured, his lips moving against your own as he only pulled away enough to get the words out. You giggled a bit into the kiss before you spoke back. “I know you do.. You’re pretty damn smitten.” you smirked. 

“You ass.” 

[spidergwenstefani]

First Line Challenge

RULES: List the first lines of the last ten stories you published. Look to see if there are any patterns that you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any! Then tag some friends.

tagged by @vvinterhavvk and @claraxbarton! gonna be honest, my first thought after being tagged was lmao i haven’t even written ten stories but i actually have???? shit’s wild man.

1. “You don’t have to do this,” Clint says to the back of his new neighbor’s head. Or not head, exactly. He hasn’t been able to drag his eyes much further above his waist. (Good Neighbors)

2. Bucky spins his desk chair around in a lazy circle, watching the moon shining through his apartment window blur into a bright stripe with the rest of his surroundings. (Finals Week)

3. California’s not usually Frank’s scene. There’s too many gleaming white smiles plastered onto plastic faces. He prefers the east coast where everyone’s depressed and honest about it. (Take Another Shot)

4. “It’s getting pretty cold, huh?” Clint says, rubbing his arms and not bothering to suppress the shiver that runs through him. (Stakeout Makeout)

5. Clint is… Okay, Clint is definitely lost. (I’ll Give You More Than Just a Kiss)

6. Bucky swears, pulling the seam ripper through the next stitch just a shade too viciously, catching his thumb with the stabby bit as thread gives way. (Long Day)

7. “Hey,” Bucky says, startling Clint out of his semi-meditative state. The pile of arrows goes skittering across the coffee table, and he jumps high enough to bang his knee on the underside. (Memories)

8. Clint stares at the sprig of mistletoe dangling ominously from the elevator ceiling and reminds himself never to underestimate Tony Stark again. (Let it Snow)

9. “Happy Birthday!” Bucky stares blankly at Clint, not sure what to do with the crumpled ball of wrapping paper that was thrust into his hands. It’s lumpy and silver, shedding enough glitter that Bucky’s sweatpants are already sparkling. (Ptilonorhynchus Violaceus)

10. The future has a way of surprising you, Bucky thinks as he stares out into the blackness of space. He allows himself a small smile that it’s Steve’s voice saying the words in his head because Bucky was doing a little more than sleeping during the seventy-year gap. It took Steve a while to realize that Bucky wouldn’t be bamboozled by the fucking coffee machine, that the years in between are just blood-splattered snapshots in his mind, but yeah, Steve, he noticed cassette tapes. (Holy Dimensional Gateway, Batman!)

so my opening lines are way more varied than i realized they were? i get so stuck on beginning in general in my fics and usually i only settle on a line bc i just tell myself to stop nitpicking and change it later and then i never do. It’s kind of nice to look back on them, though, because i’m kinda proud of a lot of these. especially the last one (which is why i ended up pasting the whole first paragraph oops.) i definitely do a lot of dialogue openers, but not quite as many as i thought i did.

tagging: @aw-hawkeye-no @kangofu-cb @sevdrag @redsector-a @villainny and @flawedamythyst

[archadianskies]

do u still write grelliam? bc grelliam - i said/did to make you laugh

→ ao3

If there is one thing Director William T. Spears detests above all else, it is inefficiency.

Yet how does one address inefficiency caused by injury? Harder still, when the inefficiency is borne from anxiety, from helplessness and frustration.

Both results have returned negative, small blessings and silver linings gilding an otherwise horrific situation. The Ancient one, so revered out of awe and fear, is the very reason the pair are here in the first place and had William known the extent of their injuries, of her injuries he wouldn’t have made her row them ashore.

“How long will they need to stay here?” He asks as Dr Charles Farrough comes to stand at Ronald’s bedside.

“A while, lad.” a heavy sigh as he glances at his clipboard. “In the very least, another week in recovery before they can begin physiotherapy. Scythe wounds can’t be healed using our regenerative abilities. It has to heal the long way.”

He’s no stranger to visiting the Infirmary, he’s even dragged Sutcliff here personally but even after her Jack the Ripper stint recovery had only taken a day’s worth of bed rest and a spoonful of Starlight analgesic before she was out the door; a week is an eternity for a Reaper used to healing in a few hours.  

“Tests came back negative for the Thorn for both of them, so at least there’s that.” Charles sighs, knocking his glasses up briefly so he can rub his eyes tiredly. “The stitches run deep for Grell, the deepest I’ve sewn in a while now. Even when Cooper had his leg sliced off I only had to tack it in place and let his healing do the rest.”

“The Ancient One’s scythe and skill are still as deadly as the day he began.”

“Don’t discount her skills either, William.” He chides with a shake of his head. “Had it been Ronald receiving the brunt of the scythe, the lad would have died. That she’s here at all is testament to her strength.”

“Are they still sedated?” William asks, sparing Grell a brief glance before looking to the doctor.

“They should surface soon, but be gentle with them they won’t be coherent yet.” He reaches down to smooth Ronald’s ginger hair away from his pale face. “It takes a lot to put a Reaper under, so it’ll take a lot for them to claw their way back up.”

“I will keep that in mind, Dr Farrough.” He nods as Charles claps him on the shoulder.

“It’s just a waiting game now, lad. Be patient.”

The younger Reaper surfaces first, blinking awake and whining in pain when he tries to sit up. William presses Ronald’s shoulder firmly to prevent him from moving.

“Don’t.”

“Owww…” The boy whines, face scrunching up in pain. “Head’s stuffed with cotton and chest is on fire. Callin’ in sick today boss, sorry.”

“None of this is your fault, there is no need to apologize.” It comes out too sharp, too biting, and Ronald seems to shrink at his tone. He tries again. “You and Sutcliff are heavily injured, no one expects you to return to your duties immediately.”

Ronald tilts his head to the side, squinting at the occupant on the other bed. “Cap’n still out?”

“Yes.”

“I’d be dead if not for her, y’know.” Ronald’s voice drops to a whisper. “Shoved me outta the way when she saw that scythe come down for me.”

“You are young,” he reasons, “she knew you would not have survived.”  

“But did she know she’d survive?” Ronald’s pleads, and lying there so pale from bloodloss and swamped with gauze and bandages he seems ever so small and even younger.

“I’m not sure.” He says, because it’s the truth and Ronald isn’t a child to be placated with sugary lies no matter the optimistic intent.

“I’ll be stronger, I promise.” His voice wavers, unsteady and unsure and William can count every single day of the scant century between their ages.

“Ronald I don’t think anything could have prepared you for that fight.” It’s the truth, again, but he hopes it’s reassuring in its helplessness.

“My chest feels like it’s on fire.” A couple of tears slip from the corner of his eye, rolling down towards his ear before he labours a hand up to brush them away.

“Recovery will be slow, Dr Farrough said.”

“Do we- do I have-”

“Tests came back negative.” William interjects, and then adds after a pause. “For you both.”

Ronald says nothing, but he sighs in such relief. He’s not used to giving comfort, but he manages to pat Ronald’s hand in a way he hopes to convey his well wishes. It seems to work. The younger reaper closes his eyes and sleeps.

He’s partway through the day’s checks and balances of deaths and souls when Grell finally surfaces from sedation. It’s more violent than Ronald’s slow awakening, it’s eyes snapping open it’s a strained gasp it’s a pained cry and she turns her head this way and that to take in her surroundings.

“Sutcliff.” He keeps his voice low and steady, and it’s enough to focus on her attention.

“Will?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m being held together by a single silk thread.” She huffs a tired laugh, sinking back into her pillow and staring at the ceiling. “Which I’m sure isn’t far from the truth.”

“Dr Farrough said the stitches are numerous and deep due to the severity of the injury.” William confirms with a nod. “Recovery will be slow for the both of you, even moreso for you though I’m sure you surmised that.”

“Didn’t think I’d make it, to be honest.” She grins wryly though she doesn’t meet his gaze. “Thought I’d be sliced in half and be done with it all.”

“I-” a sharp intake of breath, a gathering of courage and discarding of pride. “I didn’t realise the extent of your injuries when I made you row us ashore and I know that only exacerbated the scythe wound. You lost a significant amount of blood in the process and pulled the wound open deeper than it was.”

“An apology, my my.” Grell drawls, lips twitching up briefly. “Things must be dire, Will. Did my result come back positive for the Thorn?”  

“No. Both tests came back negative.” It’s a splinter, her words, burrowing beneath his skin and he accepts it as penance owed. “I’m apologising because you deserve an apology for my actions.”

“I’m exhausted, love.” She sighs, eyes fluttering closed. “I’ve never felt so tired in my life.”

“Then rest, Sutcliff.” He implores her, pride be damned as he reaches to squeeze her hand. “You need to rest.”

When William returns the next day Ronald is fast asleep, and Grell is propped up by pillows behind her neck and back. She gives him a lazy wave of her fingers.

“Good morning, Sutcliff.”

“Hello darling.” Her voice is softer and scratchier with fatigue. “Still holding together at the seams.”

He nods at that and takes a seat at her bedside. He’s come prepared, arms full of the day’s paperwork to manage.

“Ronnie and I will have to get Eric and Alan thank you presents.” She muses, fingers toying with the blanket hem. “All the inevitable overtime they’ll be doing because of us.”

“It’s not your fault.” He says firmly, frowning at her. “They’ll take on extra duties but that’s the way it has to be for now.”

There’s more to be said but she doesn’t say it, only purses her pale lips tightly and stares down at her hands. The bloodloss and fatigue make her look younger, more like the incorrigible student he butted heads with back in their Academy days. Without her makeup he can see the smattering of cinnamon freckles on her skin, can see the pale ginger lashes without their black lacquer framing her eyes. She’s without her painted mask, she’s without her bravado and everything feels wrong.

William focuses on his paperwork and she focuses on her chipped red nail polish.

The work is ceaseless and unrelenting but such is their duty. He was able to spare them several hours in the first two days but now he’s only able to duck in to see them and talk briefly with Dr Farrough to discuss their progress. Ronald is healing well, his injuries not as severe as his senior and Dr Farrough hopes to clear him for physiotherapy in three days time. Grell, on the other hand, is recovering slower than projected. The wound is deep, but clean, and by that logic it should be an easier recovery. It is not.

They haven’t had to resort to sedation again, but it’s come close to that, Dr Farrough tells him. Twice she’s woken from sleep in agony, and once he’s had to replace her stitches after she tried clawing them out.

It’s six days since he’s had time to properly sit in the hospital room, and by now Ronald’s been discharged to the care of Eric Slingby for light bed rest and physiotherapy thrice a week at the training facility.

Grell is a spot of red in a sea of clinical whites and muted greys, and the room seems to swallow her up. He brings her some tea and a pastry from the cafeteria, which elicits a small tired smile.

“You’re going to scold me for scratching my stitches aren’t you.” She sighs heavily, tracing the rim of her teacup.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand the pain you’re in, so I can’t make judgement on that.”

“It feels like ice.” She rests her palm gingerly to her chest. “I can’t describe it. It’s like ice but hot. A hot sort of cold. A cold so intense it feels hot.”

“It’s your body’s healing response trying to knit the tissue back together.” He leans over to cut the pastry for her to prevent her performing the repetitive back and forth motion with the knife that will aggravate her fresh stitches.

“This is going to leave one hell of a scar.” She toys with the handle of her cup, pointedly avoiding his gaze. “I already hate what I see in the mirror, what more now that there’ll be a hideous gash running right across my torso?”

He hadn’t thought about that, not at all because that’s a pain only she feels and the wound is yet another pain only for her to experience and all at once he feels like a fool, so very sorry indeed.

“I’m going to relive that moment every time I bathe, every time I change my clothing.” Her breathing comes quicker now, and her voice warbles with barely restrained tears. “Ronnie gets a scar he can brag to the ladies about and I get another nail in this goddamn coffin of a body.”

He doesn’t know what to say, he can’t relate to a fight that isn’t his and yet he knows he played some part in her suffering. William clears his throat, reaching over to pat her hand reassuringly.

“Drink your tea, Grell. It’ll go cold.” She manages a wobbly smile.

“Of course Will.”

A full eight days after the projected schedule Grell Sutcliff is discharged to the care of William T. Spears for light bed rest and physiotherapy thrice a week at the training facility. He takes her home on a stormy London afternoon wrapped in a thick coat and scarf. They have to travel the mortal way, as she’s too fragile to be leaping and bounding across rooftops and making the quick jumps that allow reapers to move at inhuman speeds. It isn’t a long journey by any means but she falls asleep leaning against him and he doesn’t say a word.

She settles into his guest bedroom and she’s too tired to joke about getting into his (pyjama) pants or between his sheets, Grell simply rests her head on the pillow and falls asleep again. He only wakes her later to coax her to eat a light dinner and then he leaves her be for the rest of the evening. Physiotherapy awaits the next day and he knows she needs her rest.

Physiotherapy, William learns, does not go well and Grell ends up back at the Infirmary for reopening her wound. When he’s signed off on the last of the day’s reports he finally heads over in the early evening to visit her only to be intercepted by Dr Farrough first.

“Not tonight, lad.” He grips William’s shoulder. “She’s a right mess and it’s not a good idea to see her.”

“She’s hurt again.” He tries to reason, but the doctor shakes his head.

“She is, in more ways than one.” Charles glances at the door of her room. “Come back tomorrow after she’s rested and composed herself. She’s in a bit of a state right now.”

It’s taken him too long to do the decent thing, really and he’s mentally kicking himself for not doing this sooner. The shop is a small one but it’s bursting with colour and the heady, heavy aroma of an amalgamation of blooms.

He selects a single red rose and then requests the florist build a bouquet around it so the rose is the centrepiece. It’s a large, dramatic arrangement which he thinks suits her quite well, and it’s finished off with a large red organza bow around the stems.

Unwilling to risk damaging the flowers, he travels the mortal way in a vehicle with the bouquet on his lap. He wrinkles his nose, feeling a tickle in his nostrils. Dust from the interior of the vehicle, surely.

It’s the pollen. William realises it as he’s walking to the Infirmary with his eyes watering and an incessant itching in his nose. He sneezes for the umpteenth time, startling a clinician who he apologises to immediately.

Grell is sitting up in bed, eyes and the tip of her nose pink from crying. He can tell she’s frustrated and upset with herself, but the expression vanishes when she spots him in the doorway with the large bouquet.

“Will?”

“Grell, these are for y-y-” He squeezes his eyes shut to fight off an impending sneeze. “For y-achoo!” It fails. “Apologies, it seems the pollen is a-aggra-achoo!” Another sneeze. “Oh blast it.” He mutters, crossing the room to thrust the bouquet into her hands. “Here, I- achoo!”

She giggles, shoulders shaking until the giggle turns into a bright laugh.

“Well I’m glad my suffering is amusing to you.” He comments dryly as she launches into another peal of laughter.

“They’re lovely.” She hugs the bouquet, burying her nose in it to savour their sweet scent. When she looks up at him, she smiles, eyes bright. “Thank you William.”

It’s all worth it, William realises even as he wrinkles his nose to try and stave off another sneeze. Leaning over he presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

“You’re welcome, Grell.”

*~*~*

[The amaranth flower is one of the symbols of immortality and has been used as such a symbol since the time of Ancient Greece. Indeed, the word comes from the Greek amarantos (Αμάρανθος or Αμάραντος), meaning the “one that does not wither,” or the never-fading (flower).]

It’s also a flower with a high pollen count sorry Will ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[tsundere-model]

Also ShuIzu bc yes

Meme: Five times kissed ((this took me almost 3 hours to write what the actual heck, i hope you fucking love this thing)) @mathlovershugarl

I love you, no matter how i meet you

The first time was in the dim light of an oil lantern, it’s light so fickle every breeze from the open window felt like a deadly threat. Not even the unusual calmness of an empty street beyond his window enough to stop the tears that dripped from blue eyes. How shameful, he had thought. To find a familiar echo in the words of someone else - words written far away across the sea, by someone he might never come to meet.

A small apology at his ridicule display, he pressed a folded piece of white cloth against the corners of his eyes, cleaning away them from the offending tears without compromising the elaborate makeup.

The stern tone of the scholar pulled at his heart like gravity itself, face turning up in time to be caught by the trap of bright gold eyes. A lure he couldn’t help but take, the warning tone of light irritation at his mindless apology useless against the warmth caress of that breath against his skin. His head spinning as he experienced for the first time since he remembered, both the intense craving for contact and a intense fear of utter rejection.

And yet, as he allowed his body to give in, eyelids low and lips seeking contact… he found nothing but a sweet retort. A corresponding caress of lips against lips and tender fingers over the softness of his cheek and the intricate mess of his own silver hair. And that was it… the academic had pulled away and returned to his own side, ending the contact so quick it felt unreal. That first kiss of actual love but an ephemeral summer dream for him.

And yet, it was leading him to a path of no return.

Feet moving along the upbeat music, the beautiful landscape of the city beyond the windows all the more beautiful when seen in complete darkness. Silly giggles he felt almost too embarrassed to let others hear following one after the other, he had eventually stopped pointlessly looking at his feet for possible obstacles a couple of songs ago, instead allowing himself to follow the expert lead that came from that warm hold around his waist and those rough fingers against his very own hand.

They had moved all the furniture out of the way before starting, so there was no point in looking around. He was just used to it. Just like the redhead before him was used to the opposite, always ‘looking’ straight ahead.

And just like he had said before they indulged in this little game, he truly was all too used to sing and not enough to dance; breath already harsh after only these few songs. At the very least his partner was just as tired as himself - an amusing thought considering how steady his lead continued to be.

It was the change from being an idol to a singer - he tried to excuse himself- from caring about his whole appearance to hating the voiced judgments about it. But that was all they were, excuses. Not that he needed when standing here - in this small world for just the two of them. Another smile, he pressed himself closer to the taller male, gently leading him to crane down. Just enough he’d be able to catch him if he stretched his back.

Lips pressed softly against his cheek, he followed by another one by the corner of his lips.

A giddy feeling as he noticed, in the closeness, the embarrassed gesture the artist was doing without noticing, he ventured another kiss, this time square in the lips. Soft, warm, sweet. Their feet still moving along with the music -even if much slower by now- the gentle kiss made his whole world shift perspectives.

How he hated rainy days. The pitter-patter of the rain against the cold concrete of a unforgiving world sounding like judgment in his ears. A nonexistent persecution by the hand of stormy rain clinging to his fur and imposing thunder making him shiver - and yet the warmth inside him wouldn’t stop.

He froze in place, the piercing fierce eyes of a dog placed over its small frame.

A real escape - breathless, fearful.

Unfamiliar sights and dark alleys following one after the other, he slowly but certainly cornered himself. Slowly drifting away from the places he knew he’d be safe in; Self-destructive even in his attempts to flee danger.

And then he heard no more panting behind his tracks.

He hated rainy days. Grim remainders of the stains that made him worthless, the weak - unwanted. Paws finally giving up in his escape, even if he wasn’t sure he was completely safe, he curled down against a cold concrete wall, barely hiding from the rain in a creak between rocks and a tree… the whole world grey for starry blue eyes he blinked slowly, the drops of water following the lines of his fur and across his muzzle.

He heard a growl in the distance and curled further down, wishing to pass unnoticed.

The sound of sniffle making him look towards the street ahead, he noticed a big muzzle trying to squeeze itself in the creak he had hidden inside and cowered further inside.

Fear…

He closed his eyes, breath erratic and claws out, a low hiss trying to keep the intruder at bay.

And then he felt fingers over his fur. The sudden touch making him turn around and claw at the hand that touched him.

The hand however, didn’t retreated, instead holding his nape strongly and forcing him out of his hiding place. He hissed, struggling and wriggling in that hold, until he was able to see familiar eyes… gestures.

His fighting stopping, he allowed himself to shift back slowly… bones cracking and body shaking at the cold, the tears that a cat couldn’t shed instantly dripping from his now human blue eyes. How weak. How vulnerable… wrapped in a warm jacket he could only guess the wolf-dog had been clever enough to bring with him, strong hands picked him up and held him tight. Warmth unlike anything he had ever felt kept him from falling again, the sheer contrast making painfully obvious how cold his body felt.

Reaching up with both arms, he clung from that warmth that made his loneliness so evident. He felt gentle nuzzling against his face, warm lick more befitting of a dog than a man. He trembled, fearful, lonely, cold.

Words of gratitude and regret mixed inside his mouth, coming as hollow cries not unlike the ones before. Yet desperate for returning the gesture, he eventually licked back at the other’s face. Slowly, timidly, right in between his own tears…

And ever so slowly their muzzles - no, their mouths- seemed to close their distance. Shaking in the gentle hold, a stray lick turned into a soft kiss. Drops of water falling from the long ends of his hair and mixing as their tongues slowly wrapped around each other. Sweet… warm… it wasn’t the excruciating heat that threw him over to his knees and made his mind turn to mush.

No… it was a good warmth. A good need.

A reassuring hold…

He woke up in the middle of the night to unusual sounds, his attempt of turning around and sitting up foiled by an arm strongly laced around his waist and refusing to let go. Shifting around as he could in the almost desperate embrace he had been caught into, he managed to turn around enough to look at his lovers face across the darkness. Through the curtains the obnoxious neon lights of a city refusing to sleep gave him enough light to make up the details in his face.

The deep frown that marked lines across the skin, clenched jaw and tightly pressed lips… a gesture of pain that matched those small whimpering sounds that had woke him up. A nightmare maybe? Was it the accident again? Was it something else?

He called the other’s name gently, long fingers reaching up to caress his face and brush the red buckles of stray hair out of the way, inviting him to return to reality.

Finally, golden eyes opened at the calling… first opening wide and then closing down slowly. The hold around his waist only turning stronger now that the redhead had woke up.

What were the right words to say? What the right things to do? Unable to tell, he could only try his best. Fingers passing through that red hair, he gently pressed a kiss against his cheek, and then another one against his forehead, reassuring words as he tried to ease him back into a gentle and warmth world.

How gentle his words could be when the only thing in his mind was to bring calm to the agitated mind of his lover. He heard what he could only guess was an apology, the shaky breath making it hard to tell… shaking his head no, he kissed the apology away, along with all the other worries and fears.

He didn’t minded one bit. He had no regrets in his love… if he could be useful like this... if he could make things even a little bit easier for the one he loved with his words, with his presence… then that was enough for him.

The cup was empty. Eyebrows knitted at the realization, he finally looked up from the pile of reports, transcriptions and recordings. Time had passed without him noticing, the sun already gone from the sky. The bright light above their head very lightly the result of his younger lover’s timely concern.

Talking of which… lowering his glasses over the bridge of his nose, he gave an adoring look at the young redhead before his eyes. Gesture serious, he seemed all too focused in the complicated-looking book before his eyes to even realize he was being stared at.

A little smirk pulling from his lips, the lawyer opted for silently refiling his coffee. The sound of the chair moving against the floor or the coffee machine starting up did nothing to shake the student’s concentration, completely invested in the theory before him.

How cute. Truly adorable.

Pouring another full cup of coffee as it was done, he took a good sip from it before settling it down besides his work… However, instead of sitting down to continue as he might have done, he opted for walking around the younger male, finally standing on the opposite side from him. Tapping lightly in the opposite shoulder, he smiled as the college student turned towards the place he was expecting the lawyer to be just to be surprised by the empty desk and chair.

A wide smile was plastered across his face when the redhead finally found him standing besides him. The pout in the younger’s face every bit able to melt him down where he stood. He had no business looking this cute.

Reaching out with one hand, he squeezed the soft cheek of the student, giggling at his small sound of protest as he called him cute again. Finally, he released the teasing hold -albeit reluctantly- to instead, catch the prize of soft cherry lips. How soft and cute, just like everything about him. And before he could complain another kiss for good measure, tongue swiping across his lips and slowly sneaking inside his mouth. He wondered if the redhead would think the kiss was bitter, considering the coffee he had just downed, but as he pulled back, he saw nothing but a messed up look of bliss.

How adorable indeed. He seemed like the perfect dessert to go along with his coffee.